Meine Liebe
by MyNameIsM
Summary: She had lived an easy life up until that point, out of the limelight and free of stress. That was going to change tonight. Tonight Sayu Yagami was going to be kidnapped by destiny. MelloXSayu. Complete
1. Chapter One: Entführt

_Heh. This is my first ever attempt at Death Note fan fiction, so I'm afraid that you'll have to bear with me. Reviews are much appreciated. (:_

Meine Liebe.

Chapter One : Entführt

Sayu Yagami, nineteen years old and content, took a deep breath of cold night air, clearing her lungs and shedding the slow and sluggish feeling always brought on by a day of college. She was really worn out today, exams were coming up and she wanted to get the best possible grade she could – which was average, but she wasn't ashamed to admit that. She never claimed to be some sort of super brain. But, when she first got into college, her lecturers were a little taken back by her generally average past; Light Yagami was still infamous for his ingenuity. But Sayu was just a normal girl, they came to see that pretty quickly and let her be.

But of course, Sayu was not bitter about that. She had lived her entire life in her brother's shadow; in fact, although she did not know this, she had not once, in her nineteen years, been appreciated for what she could do or who she was. Her parents didn't do it on purpose, there was no conscious decision to depreciate their daughter, but every time they got her report card, they couldn't help but compare it to the merits of their son.

Sayu didn't know about that. She had lived an easy life up until that point, out of the limelight and free of stress.

That was going to change tonight.

As her breath steamed in front of her, Sayu did not notice the truck tailing her from behind. The streets of Tokyo were still crowded with commuters, so she didn't hear the footsteps following close behind her.

Turning off into the park -a short cut to her house - Sayu pulled her cell phone from her pocket, intending to call Nao, tell her about Kenji, and 'ohmygodhe'ssocute' and 'ohmygodtellmeaboutit' until she went to bed.

A normal teenage conversation. A normal night. Part of her routine.

She dialled the number.

Nao picked up. "Hey girl, what's up?" A loud, cheerful voice sounded through the speaker. "Sayu? You there?"

Sayu was there. She was struggling in the grasp of an unbelievably muscled man, shrieking through the hand that covered her mouth, clawing at the calloused hands that held her as he dragged her easily to the van that was idling nearby.

"Sayu? Helllllo?"

The doors slammed shut and the van sped away.

...

She was harshly bound and gagged, tape cruelly sealing her mouth, tugging on her lips as they worked in muffled sobs.

She had squeezed herself into the corner of the van, her back pressed against the cold metal. She had slipped a bit when they went over a bump and now she was slumped over, her spine curving and her head was being pushed forward. Her neck ached, but she couldn't reposition herself because both her arms and legs had been tied up. The floor of the vehicle was dirty, and it smelled of sweat and alcohol.

Sayu kept her eyes pressed shut, and an ocean of tears streamed from behind her eyelids. This wasn't real, there was no way this could be real – this was too much like the recurring nightmare she'd had as a child, of being captured in the night by strange people and carried away to be killed. She would wake up soon. And she'd be safe and warm, staring up at the poster of Hideki Ryuga on her ceiling.

The van went over another bump. Sayu hit her head pretty hard against the cold metal of the van and saw stars. It hurt. It really hurt.

One man laughed.

And she didn't wake up. This dream was real.

Sayu Yagami cried even harder.

...

With a dramatic swoop, he bit off the end of a new chocolate bar. He had been waiting rather too long for confirmation, and in his agitation, had eaten five bars without tasting them. He spoke through the sweet paste coating his tongue: "What's taking them so long?"

Rod Ross regarded the teen calmly with reptilian eyes. "They'll get her. A plane ride from Tokyo to L.A takes a while, Mello. No matter how easy of a target she is."

Mello threw himself back onto the couch irritably, snapping at the chocolate again. He just wanted to get that girl now, so he could get that notebook sooner. Time was precious, and he needed to use every moment he had productively. He had to prove himself; and the sooner he got that murder notebook, the sooner he could close the Kira case and take his rightful place as number one.

All this came down to was beating Near and avenging L. That's all Mello cared about. That's all he wanted.

The blond glanced irritably at the cell phone beside him. He grabbed at it, flicked it open. No new messages. With a hissing sigh, Mello snapped it shut, tossed it aside.

Rod Ross rolled his eyes.

...

"Will somebody please shut that stupid girl up!"

Sayu Yagami had been captured at half past nine the night before. It was now nine in the morning. In that window of eleven and a half hours, she had only ceased snivelling once, when her body gave in to fatigue. But such peace hadn't lasted long. One member had tried to silence her using the only method he knew, but the hits had only made her cry harder.

Sayu was in a state – bloody nose and smudged make up, caked down her face in tear tracks. Her eyes blood shot and sore, nose running unattractively – but she didn't care, why should she?

Sayu Yagami, nineteen years old and terrified, was convinced that she was going to die.


	2. Chapter Two: Pulsieren Sie

_Hmm... I know, I know. My writing skill may have kind have gone to hell in my short hiatus from fanfiction . But bare_ _with me. I'll soon get back into it. Thanks to the people to have reviewed so far. You make me so very happy. And that sounded creepy. You smell good too._

Meine Liebe

Chapter Two: Pulsieren Sie

Mello snapped open the phone once again and, once again, there were no new messages. A frustrated growl twisted up in his throat, accompanied by an eyebrow-less scowl. Yes, he appreciated that the distance between America and Japan was great, but this was simply taking too long. He shifted in his seat, leather creaking, and threw the crumpled foil wrapper of his tenth chocolate bar at the wall.

Just as he was about to fling aside the phone, it vibrated in his hand. He snapped it open in a reflex movement. It displayed a crudely spelled message: _'got grl. Tken dwn 2 cell.'_

Without hesitation, Mello leapt from the couch and headed for the stairs that lead underground. His heavy boots clanged loudly on the metal, despite the fact that he barely touched them with his light step. There was a joke, a secret joke, within the Mafia underlings that Mello was in fact a girl; he was, after all, very dramatic, prone to mood swings, loved chocolate – basically the walking stereotype of a woman. But you would never say anything like that in front of the blond teen because he would probably shoot you in the face. Everyone knew how ruthless Mello could be; everyone had seen him in action.

Mello hurried down the dim passage; it had a strange, almost earthly smell and was lit sparsely by low-watt light bulbs. At the end of the passage there was a heavy iron door that looked like something from an old ship, with a handle that had to be turned. It was rusty and shrieked under his leather-clad hands, and when it opened he was greeted by harsh white light that bounced off sterile white tiles. He flinched.

Inside there were several Mafia men gathering near a glass cell that stretched from wall to wall, with a spinning, lockable door placed in the centre.

"Mello!"

"Get out."

"But –"

"Get. Out."

The men, who were all several heads taller than the teen and much, much stronger, complied quickly. Mello wasn't someone to mess with; he was the boss's right hand man and a force to be reckoned with. Also, Mello was driving this operation, this was his plan, and Mello had never failed them before, so it was best to just stay out of his way until he was done.

The door closed surprisingly quietly and Mello was left alone. Beyond the glass a petite Japanese girl lay on her back, body curving upward slightly due to her hands being handcuffed underneath her. The masking tape still covered her mouth. Her ebony hair streamed across the colourless tiles of the floor, her face was just as pale with raccoon+-like circles under her sunken eyes.

She was unconscious.

Mello smirked to himself, pulled yet another bar of chocolate from his pocket and unwrapped it. When he bit into it, the crack echoed through the empty room.

...

Sayu did not remember falling asleep because that never happened, that would have been too painless; however she did remember being injected with something in the van. That man, horrible leering man, with small eyes and lank brown hair, had come towards her with that hypodermic needle and jammed it roughly in her neck. A sharp sting, smell of cigar-smoke and sweat, struggling against her bindings, then a growing darkness. Then nothing, sweet nothing; a void where thoughts stopped and dangers disappeared. In that long darkness, even dreams couldn't reach her and it was so beautiful.

So when Sayu initially opened her eyes, she believed herself to be in heaven. It was so bright and she was still filled with that inner peace. For a few seconds that wonderful mirage continued and she honestly thought herself to be free; that, like in her childhood nightmares, her capturers had killed her and she was finally at rest.

But then she noticed something as her bleary vision cleared. Strip lights across the ceiling.

Heaven didn't have strip lights.

The bubble of peace popped within her stomach, leaving a cold and hollow panic. Then, and only then, did she come to realise what an awkward position she was in, how her spine ached and how heavy and numb her arms were. Sayu writhed about on the tiles, trying to prop herself up. She rolled onto her front; the tiles were cold on her warm cheek and sent a little shock through her body. From her position lying on her face Sayu managed to prop up her knees up under her and, with much struggling, got into a kneeling position.

Mello was watching her through the glass, calmly chewing chocolate. Intense, unblinking blue bore into dark brown.

Sayu couldn't help but stare back, his fierce gaze kept her kind of hypnotized. Things took a surreal turn and she felt the world melt away.

Who was he? And why did he look like and angel?

A halo of golden hair that shone in harsh light, tanned soft-looking skin, a strong face and those eyes. Eyes that didn't shine, eyes that didn't blink, eyes that were hard, eyes that could bring fear to the strongest of his men. Eyes that were strangely beautiful, with an effeminate curve to them, framed with long, pale lashes.

Sayu was entranced, but so afraid. So very afraid. For those eyes were filled with danger.

The magic shattered with a crack as the chocolate broke and echoed through the heavy silence. She could look away; finally, she could escape his eyes. But the heavy feeling of fear within her didn't subside. Mello, set aside his chocolate, unlocked the rotating door and stepped into the cell, his footsteps echoing with purpose. He stopped before her, boots shining in the strip light.

"Sayu Yagami." He said, voice slow, almost thoughtful. "Daughter of Soichiro Yagami, Deputy Director of the NPA." He paused, crouched, so his face was level with hers. If she had been looking, she would of noticed that he had a strange smirk on his face, a cross between a smile and a sneer.

With a sudden movement, his hand was knotted in the hair on the sensitive lower back of the head, and he yanked it hard so her face was inclined towards his. Sayu gave a little cry of pain that was muffled by the tape. "It's rude to ignore people when they are talking to you." His expression never changed as he threw her down hard onto her back, straddling her stomach and drawing his gun.

Her dark eyes went unattractively wide and he felt every muscle in her body go tense under him. Mello smirked. This was his favourite part. He loved the power; he lived to replicate this feeling. The ultimate high.

Mello leaned forward and roughly ripped away the tape and Sayu gave a little cry as he managed to rip away a little bit of skin too. A few beads of blood formed on her chapped, pale lips and Mello grinned in satisfaction – he liked to see them bleed. But he didn't like the look in her doe-like eyes; they were too _female_.

He had never had to do this to a _girl_. It seemed vaguely wrong; but he swallowed the feeling, leaning forward and pressing his pistol to her temple.

"Now, I think you should tell me everything you know."


	3. Chapter Three: Folter

_Thanks to all my reviewers. I love you. Very much._

Meine Liebe

Chapter Three: Folter

Sayu squirmed, trying to turn her head away as he reached out a gloved hand and smeared the blood on her lips down towards her chin. She was sobbing hysterically, and Mello could feel her whole body convulsing under him. The smirk on his face had been replaced by an odd expression, blank but intense. "Just tell me about the Notebook." He trailed the pistol down her face slowly, from temple to cheek and left it there, cold metal biting the warm skin.

Sayu cried harder. "I d-don't know anything." She shrieked between sobs.

Mello sighed, twisting the pistol hard into the hollow of her cheek. "Sayu, I don't want to hurt you. Just tell me." He really didn't want to hurt her. This whole thing seemed kind of wrong to him; ruthless as he was. It was different from interrogating burly gang-type men, it didn't matter how many times you hit or cut or tortured them, the worst they would do was scream; no chance of _them_ breaking down into snivelling, shaking messes. But there were cameras set up all around the room and Mello knew the guys upstairs were watching this, so he had to keep up appearances...

He yanked her hair. Hard. And for a moment her sobs stopped as she screamed.

"Ok then, tell me what's going on in the Japanese Task force." He withdrew the gun, then used it to wipe away some of the blood that had dribbled from Sayu's ripped lip. She shivered.

"I don't know." She repeated it again and again, in a small, breathless voice; accompanied by dry sobs, which sounded a bit like sighs. Her eyes were clamped shut but tears were still dribbling from behind her closed lids. "I don't know. I don't know. I don't know."

Mello leaned forward from where he sat on her stomach, placing one hand beside her head to support his body weight, and pressed the gun against her temple again. "Don't lie to me."

Sayu's eyes shot open, and they revealed a real and deep fear. "I'm not lying. I don't know anything." She started to cry again, quivering under his weight with every sob. She had stopped squirming at least; she lay docile and defeated on her back, head inclined back slightly, pale cheeks flushed with sentiment.

It was pitiful.

Mello was known for being ruthless, killing in an instant, regretting nothing; but he found this pitiful.

With a final, malicious pulling of hair, he got to his feet. "I'll be back later. You better start talking then." He stomped away, footfalls echoing loudly through the sterile room. She heard the spin of the rotating door of the cell, then the awful screech of rusty metal as the heavy door was opened, and a weird sort of sucking noise as it closed.

Sayu Yagami was alone, still on her back, scalp still throbbing and stomach heavy with the knowledge that he would be back.

Her crying got harder, something that didn't seem possible, but happened all the same. She rolled onto her side and curled herself up into a protective foetal position. That boy ... he might look like some sort of angel, but he acted like a demon, a devil.

Sayu didn't understand what he wanted with her. He knew who she was, who her father was, about the existence of the Task Force, something she and her mother only knew about because they were family to a member, no one else was meant to know of its existence; so he was obviously some sort of influential person.

So why the hell was he asking her about a notebook?

...

"Well?" Rod Ross raised his eyes expectantly as Mello threw himself heavily onto the couch.

"She's not talking yet." Was the irritable reply. Rod couldn't help but notice that Mello avoided everyone's eyes, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling instead. The bald Mafia boss frowned.

"So I take it you're going back down."

"I can't make her talk when she's crying and shit." Mello mumbled, blue eyes fixed on the domed ceiling. His hands snaked into the pocket on his leather vest and he pulled out another bar of chocolate, its wrapper rustling. He raised the bar to his lips but didn't take a bite, he left it hovering there thoughtfully; the heavy coca scent invading his nostrils wasn't as appetizing as it had been earlier.

Jack Snydar, who was lazily watching the small, flickering image of the girl on the computer, smirked and said: "If that was me, I would have just taken her then and there."

Mello's face twisted; but he declined to comment, instead taking a cautious lick of chocolate. Rod Ross rolled his head to the side and fixed the underling with a blank stare; even though his thin lips were smiling, it didn't reach his icy eyes. "Well, shit, I think anyone would. Might as well have a little fun with her while she's here." He fixed Mello with a pointed look. "Right?"

Mello chewed thoughtfully on his chocolate. "Right." He agreed; though internally he could feel his confidence shrinking. Normally he wouldn't of doubted his ability to commit such an act; but down there in that cell, looking into those eyes that were so filled with fear, so _feminine_, he hadn't even been able to hit her.

Then Mello realized something: he had never hurt a girl before.

He'd seen it happening, Mafia members slapping around their cheap hoes, blackening their eyes if they struggled or used too much teeth; Mello had never stopped such violence, in fact he just sat back and ignored it, but had not once laid a finger on anyone of them. That was probably why they came to his room so willingly.

He found himself strangely disgusted with himself. He was meant to be strong, powerful; he was meant to be number one – how the hell was he meant to achieve that when he wasn't well-rounded in his ruthlessness?

Rod Ross smirked. "So are you going to do it?" He questioned; his voice was smooth and dangerous.

Mello snapped the chocolate in his mouth and met his boss's cold gaze for the first time since he had emerged from the cell. Without hesitation, he answered: "I was going to anyway. It'll make her talk." Mello needed to prove to them, to himself, that nothing could stop him; especially not a girl. Girls only had one use anyway; and seeing that Sayu Yagami didn't seem to know anything, he might as well take advantage of that and prove his own strength.

Mello got to his feet, threw aside his chocolate without finishing it and headed for the door.

...

Sayu Yagami had slipped into a sort of daze. Her face ached and felt oddly taught from crying for so long; now she had burned herself out and was laying in a listless, useless state; still in the foetal position on the floor. She realized now, for the first time, that her mother had probably realized she was missing; her parents would be panicking, her mother would be crying and her father would put on a serious and business-like front to disguise his worry. What would Light do? She didn't know. She rarely saw her big brother these days.

The thought of her family should have made her cry, but it didn't; maybe it would later when she felt energetic enough to produce tears. Lack of sleep and stress had made her drowsy.

She didn't even bother to lift her head when she heard someone enter through the spinning door, though her heart did begin to stutter into double time. By the time he had got over to where she lay, Sayu's body had produced enough adrenaline to allow her to scream when he pulled her roughly to her feet and slammed her into the wall.

He held her there for a moment and they just stared at each other. He looked disgusted. "Don't look at me." His voice was loud and commanding, so she obliged.

Then the cold leather of his gloved where brushing against the skin of her stomach as he popped open the top button of her jeans and Sayu raised her eyes in alarm, only to receive a hard blow across the face. "I told you not to look at me." His voice was calm, but he still shoved her roughly down on a table.

She only really started to struggle when he, forcefully, pushed her legs apart.


	4. Chapter Four: Vergewaltigung

_Thank you so much to my reviewers. You guys were so nice and your comments actually made my day. Now, I'm trying to keep the rating of this fic as it is by only alluding to what happened. If I had to move the rating up to M I'd feel dirty._

Meine Liebe

Chapter Four: Vergewaltigung

Sayu didn't know she could cry even more; but with her held flung back she was screaming at the ceiling and sobbing wildly as he tore into her.

He was holding her legs open and down against the table, and she was half naked and her skin was going red from the friction of it. Her arms, handcuffed together behind her back, were being crushed under their combined weight.

It hurt.

It hurt and he was merciless.

He had something to prove and the boys were watching.

His hands gripped tight enough to bruise as he prepared to finish. Sayu screamed again. He was going in too deep.

The pain was spreading through her lower belly and she could feel the darkness closing in. It was too much. Sayu welcomed unconsciousness. She just wanted to get away from the ripping.

She was a virgin.

She used to be a virgin.

...

Rod Ross smirked to himself; it seemed even the great Mello wasn't free from his manipulation, but then again he hadn't earned the title of the Boss from good fortune alone. The teen probably wouldn't have done it if his Boss hadn't suggested it. Rod knew that Mello was soft with women, and when the underlings start to notice things like that you start to get a negative reputation; but having him take this Japanese girl on screen would earn him more respect. And Mello really wasn't holding back. It made Rod proud in a way; he'd built that boy up from the first day he'd entered the organization at fifteen, inexperienced in life and filled with anger. This weird, hollow pride was how Rod imaged fatherhood would be.

All around the underlings were cheering and whooping, catcalling at the slightly blurry image on the screen.

They were acting like excited kids; but now they knew. Now Rod had showed them that Mello, his right hand man, couldn't be stopped by anything.

Mello had his edge back.

...

She was unconscious when he finished, limp and pale, though her inner thighs were raw looking from the friction. Her head was hanging flaccidly over the end of the table, hair flowing down like a long ebony waterfall. She looked so frail and small. So vulnerable, defenceless, exposed.

In that moment, Mello hated himself. A hot guilt writhed up in his stomach, twisting like a ravenous beast, feeding slowly on his conscience. She had bled, screamed, begged, cried and he had not stopped because he wasn't looking into her eyes. He thought that her eyes were the only thing able to hinder him, so he had forced her head back and had drowned out her constant shrieking.

But seeing her now, so small, so delicate and pale as death, he hated himself. The old self loathing and anger bubbled up within and Mello clutched the rosary around his neck and muttered a few curses. His revulsion and disgust with himself made him want to vomit, made him want to claw out his eyes and rip the hair from his scalp.

Mello hated a lot of people, but none more than himself.

Suddenly the musky, hot cell seemed to be closing in on him, and he had visions of the jaws hell opening before his eyes. The image that haunted his childhood flashed before him, a gaping pit of fire and eternal damnation; Satan sitting on his throne, beckoning him, congratulating him on his tarnished soul.

He needed to get out.

He couldn't even bring himself to readjust her clothing. He would have done anything to save himself from touching her at that moment.

...

They actually cheered when he emerged. Mello had to fight the urge to pull out his gun and shoot them all right then and there. They all deserved it. How could they have watched such a degrading, vile act and still have the audacity to greet him like a hero. Some were even laughing. It was unforgivable.

Mello caught himself; momentarily shocked with himself. What the hell was he thinking? This was the Mafia. They thrived on things like that; murder and rape were tricks of the trade. They were celebrating that he'd finally indulged in the latter, just as they did whenever he performed the former.

Mello shrugged it off. He pulled a bar of chocolate out, and bit into it ravenously.

"Well, Mello." Rod turned to him with a single, fluid movement. "Did she say anything?"

There were a few whoops from the back of the room.

Mello avoided looking at the flickering computer screen. "She doesn't know anything. I made sure." He tried to block out the loud and boyish comments this inspired, looking directly into his Boss's cold, reptilian eyes.

Rod smirked. "What a shame."

Mello finished the chocolate in double quick time, but made the mistake of looking at the screen as he turned to throw the wrapper away.

Small, pale, exposed and unconscious, arms twisted behind her back.

The beast called Guilt twisted up and bit hungrily into his damaged conscience. His throw faltered momentarily.

Mello turned to Jack Snyder, who sat a little way off from him, trying to ignore the heaviness in his chest. "Go down and put her clothes back on. And remove the handcuffs. She's too stupid to even try and get out." He tried to say it as nonchalantly as possible. Suddenly the boisterous chatter of the underlings, exhilarated by what they had just witnessed, seemed way too loud.

Snydar got eagerly to his feet. "Right, now it's my turn. I'll do her so hard she won't know what hit her."

Mello snapped suddenly. "You won't lay a fucking hand on her, you hear me? Don't even fucking _think_ about it because I will rip your fucking head off with my hands." He had not shouted, but the power, the sheer danger in his voice, squeezed out between clenched teeth, made the room quieten. His intense blue eyes bore directly into Snyder's piggish brown ones and the underling broke out in a sweat.

"Right. Fair enough." Snydar practically ran out of the room.

The other subordinates tried to ignore the right hand's outburst by indulging in awkward chatter, but Mello could feel the searching, cold gaze of Rod Ross on him and it made him burn with anger. "You know where to find me."

He turned on his heel, and made his way to his room. Two different prevailing emotions were battling within him: guilt, still burning away and recalling her screams to his ears, and disgust, not disgust with what he had done, but disgust at himself for snapping like that. It wasn't excusable, it wasn't like Snydar had fucked up again; Mello should have let it pass, should have let him have the girl.

But she was so weak, so vulnerable.

As Mello clutched again at his rosary and slammed the door shut, he could sense the beginning of an internal battle.

...

When Sayu awoke, she was still on the table, but fully clothed and her hands were free of their confines and hanging limply beside her. She couldn't move, she was too weak, so totally drained that she couldn't even lift her head. Her lips were cracked, her throat and mouth horribly dry; her body was crying out for sustenance, but she was occupied by something else.

She was unclean. She could still feel him against her skin. She could still smell him on her skin, the heavy scent of boy sweat that would cling to her body and hair and wouldn't fade for days yet. And there was something new. Something unnerving.

A void.

She could feel a void, an emptiness within her. It made her sad, it made her lonely and she knew it was an emptiness no man could ever understand.

Her mind was focused on the void. Sayu wondered vaguely if she was going crazy, maybe from lack of sleep or food or water or maybe it was the stress, because all she could focus on was the sensation of that void.

And the urge, the frightening longing, to fill it.


	5. Chapter Five: Verhaßt Monstrum

_Thank you again to all the reviewers. You're all so cool for actually reading this. And the language is German; because I've always thought of Mello as German, or at least someone with German roots. (:_

Meine Liebe

Chapter Five: Verhaßt Monstrum

He locked himself up in his room for twelve hours straight. Twelve hours without chocolate and contact; twelve hours of bitter reflection.

...

Despite his deeply Catholic origins and the rosary around his neck, Mello did not believe in God and, since the innocent fear of childhood, had come realize that heaven was a lie, hell was earth and that the Divine One, the Almighty Seer of All Things was merely a fabrication created to control men. God was nothing more than a device of man in his struggle for power.

Mello believed in power. Power was all he wanted in the world, all he had been raised to desire. Whammy's House was competitive to the point of insanity; all the children there were taught to push themselves because the winners were rewarded and the losers were shunned. Mello had never been a loser, yet he had never really won; he was always second best, always coming after that toy-obsessed freak Near. He had never tasted that pure victory, but it had always been dangling in his face, so near but so infuriatingly out of his reach. It was enough to drive the boy mad.

When L died, he knew that Near would be the chosen heir; he was the best of the best after all. So Mello left the orphanage that had raised him because there was no point in trying any more. The trials of Whammy's House were pointless now because L was dead and his title had already been passed on. Mello knew deep down that he would never be L, never become the predecessor to his only hero, Mello knew that his own weaknesses were holding him back. But what may seem like a weakness in some places were strengths in others.

Mello left England with anger in his heart and a thirst for power.

A thirst a life in the Mafia could be able to quench.

In the four short years he had spent in Los Angeles, Mello had pulled himself from the lowest of the low to the Boss's right hand man. His abilities as a prodigy had made him indispensable and because he was sure that they would not get rid of him, he had had the confidence to influence those above him and ruthlessly control those below.

He had cheated, he had lied and he had killed. He had bought himself a one way ticket to the hell he no longer believed in and it felt great.

Well, it had. But now, pacing his room, rosary in hand, it didn't feel so great.

He'd always perceived himself to have the utmost strength of character; the first time he ever took a life, the expression on his face never once changed, even as the brains leaked onto the carpet, turning it a dark red - he just stood there chewing chocolate. Only a twinge of guilt had surfaced as he saw the man's son break down crying; but it was quickly concealed and stamped out because he had told himself that they had crossed the Mafia and therefore deserved every last blow that they got. And Mello knew that by killing them he was just that little bit closer to the power he craved.

That was why he was infamous for his cold-heartedness - because his craving for being the best, the most powerful, often made him seem subhuman. That hunger, that need, had never hindered him before.

So what about Sayu Yagami? What about her? Why was the guilt worming away still?

Was it because she was a woman? Perhaps; though he had seen plenty of violence perpetrated towards women here; Rod Ross was notorious for beating his whores black and blue if they didn't do it right, or were a little slow in fulfilling his demands. It had never bothered Mello; he hated those women, with their cheap perfume, their dug-ravaged faces and easy ways; he'd only used them because he had needs and they were there. He didn't beat them because they weren't worth the trouble; their sloppy kisses and filthy touches disgusted him but they didn't make him angry – just, as soon as he was finished, he wanted them out of his room.

No, the fact that she was a woman had no bearing in his conscience.

Was it the way she screamed? Begging him to stop, screaming in pain. Maybe, maybe just a little; he often found desperation pitiful.

Was it, then, like he had originally theorized. Was it her eyes?

Large and doe-like, dark-chocolate in colour and shimmering. Gleaming and sparkling under the bright strip lights; shining with fear, glassy with pain. And other emotions too, layer upon layer flickering for a moment in those feminine eyes, only to be swept aside by another; hate, wonder, disgust, revulsion, sorrow, anguish. Any sensation you could name, they could all be found somewhere in Sayu Yagami's eyes.

That might be the reason. But it didn't quite feel right.

Maybe it was because she was just so ordinary? There was really nothing remarkable about the girl locked up in that cell; all his life Mello had been dealing with extra-ordinary people – geniuses, millionaires, crazy-people and whores. Sayu Yagami was normal, more real than those Mello had grown up around, more real than the thieves and murderers he dwelled with yet. She was pretty, but not stunning; there was nothing about her countenance that was particularly memorable. She was the type of person that could get lost in a crowd; her grades were average; she led a life with a routine; if you passed her in the street, you wouldn't spare her a passing glance because she wasn't a genius, or a millionaire, or a painted harlot. She was just normal, belonging to a world Mello could never hope to be part of.

Was that it? Yes. Yes, maybe it was because Sayu was so painfully normal. She did not belong in his world; she had done nothing to warrant what he did to her, she did not deserve such a merciless violation because she was a standard girl.

It was the closest he had come to a conclusion about the girl; but it still didn't feel right.

Sayu Yagami was more unfathomable than he ever would have imagined; it could have been a massive combination of all those reasons: the fragility of the way she looked when unconscious, the depth and openness of her eyes and her simple normality that lead to his guilt. But there was also a possibility that there was no real reason for this guilt. Maybe it was just the time for his psyche to snap and to become fully human. Was that even possible? Mello had always considered himself slightly crazy, but was it possible to reverse insanity? Surely not ... that was stupid.

It _had_ to be something to do with Sayu Yagami.

What was it? What was it?

Something about Sayu Yagami had fuelled the first wave of guilt to pass through him since childhood, but what?

His constant musings brought up another difficult question: why did he care? Why was he pacing his room, torturing himself with shame and philosophizing about his hostage? Why did it matter?

Mello groaned, and paused in his pacing to run a hand through his longish hair. His over analytical brain, so useful in the orphanage, never let him relax. He always found away to torture himself, always found a way to keep him from sleep by asking simple yet complex questions. And then his drive for perfection would make him tackle these issues and make him angry with his own futility when no obvious answer occurred. Whammy's House had done this to him, made him a shell that could not sleep.

He started to pace again, clutching his rosary, marking his palm with a pink-skin cruciform. His head was filled with Yagami. But now the guilt was subsiding slightly, replaced with a growing annoyance with the girl. Why was she proving such a problem for him? She was a simple girl with an average brain; how could she have presented him with such a difficult problem? How the hell was he supposed to work out what was remarkable about her when she wasn't remarkable in any obvious way?

How had she done this? How had she infiltrated his mind when she had only been in his presence for a few minutes on both of their two encounters? How was that possible?

With a frustrated growl Mello threw himself into a chair and rested his head on the desk. After a few moments he reached down and pressed the button on his computer's base monitor, still face down on the desk.

In a few minutes he was staring at the flickering black-and-white image of the girl. She had just managed to haul herself off the table and was walking unsteadily to the corner of the room, where she crouched and sat, back against the white-washed wall, head lolling uselessly to the side.

After about an hour of watching her sleep, Mello began to pace again.

...

After the twelve hours of self-inflicted torture, Mello emerged looking more like his normal sneering self and he announced to Rod Ross: "It's time we contacted the Task Force again."

The Boss, who was busy muttering in the ear of a scantily clad woman hanging on his arm, didn't even lift his attention to reply. "I wondered when you were going to get around to that." Another woman, with a drawn face and heavily lidded eyes, draped herself over the Mafia Boss, and Rod Ross turned his attention to her.

If the Mafia Whores were emerging it could only mean one thing: it was obviously that time of the week again for Rod Ross. The Boss lazily gestured to Snydar and Humphreys. "Go get the girl." He nipped at one woman's collarbone and she squealed.

Mello, chocolate back in hand, opened his cell phone and dialled Soichiro Yagami's number.


	6. Chapter Six: Elternteil

_Again, thanks for such great feedback. I love you all. (: (Re-upload edit = I just checked and Sayu was only held for two days, not five. So I'm going to change it to make it more canon.)_

Meine Liebe

Chapter Six: Elternteil

Sayu had woken from a fitful, dreamless sleep feeling even worse than she had before; she had hoped that sleep would have at least given her some energy, like sleep was meant to. But when she woke up, not only was she insanely thirsty and hungry, but also dizzy and so cold that she was shivering, yet the wall she was resting her face against was cold on her cheek. And, on top of all of that, the void was still there, the void _he'd_ made. Sayu felt sick to think of it, but she couldn't stop thinking about it; it was always there in the back of her mind. It made her even more afraid; what if he did it again? What if someone else came and did it? What if they made the void even bigger?

Sayu groaned, pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them.

It was so cold. She could actually hear her teeth chattering in her head and feel the goosebumps on her arms rubbing against the stiff denim of her jacket. She pressed her eyes shut, the light from the strip lights, intensified by the white walls, floor and ceiling, had become too much for her eyes – she could feel the beginnings of a headache growing around her temples.

She must have fallen asleep again because a split second later two men were standing over her – one was the guy with lank hair that injected her in the van, the other was tall with broad shoulders and powerful-looking arms; the second man's face was oddly distorted because his nose was flat and crooked, no doubt twisted from a nasty breakage. Sayu's stomach dropped coldly and her entire body went stiff; were they here to do _it_ again?

Her skin went paler, though the fevered flush remained.

The first man frowned and peered in closer; Sayu's breath hitched in her throat. He turned to the taller guy. "She doesn't look too good." He pushed his glasses back up his sharp nose.

The other shrugged, grabbed her by her collar and pulled her roughly to her feet. "I don't care." Then he twisted both arms behind Sayu's back and propelled her forward; her feet could hardly keep up with the rest of her body and she stumbled a couple of times, much to the thug's annoyance. "Move, slut!" He demanded, practically dragging her across the floor.

Sayu's vision went uneven and her head swam with vertigo, but she moved towards. She heard, rather than saw, the revolving cell door and the awful shriek of the metal bulk-head. She was being led up and dark corridor that was sparsely lit and smelled earthy, like dirt.

Where they letting her go?

An odd bubble of hope formed within her, even though she knew it was beyond stupid to even think of such a thing. But before she could properly scold herself for her foolish optimism, she had to tackle the stairs; her legs wobbled and she was unbalanced, often falling back into the guy that was pushing her. When she finally got to the top of the small flight of metal steps she was seriously out of breath, but still he dragged her on.

And then suddenly she was in a room full of Mafia men; they all turned to look at her, some sniggered, while others whistled or made obscene gestures at her. Normally Sayu would have been mortified, but she was too faint and unfocused to care.

Then she heard _his_ voice: "Your daughter's finally arrived here." He was lounging on the sofa, leisurely licking chocolate with a cell phone pressed to his ear. His head was thrown back and he was looking at the ceiling.

A flicker of something that was both hate and fear stirred in Sayu and her knees buckled beneath her. The guy that had been dragging her let her fall and left her there. The atmosphere in the room was thick and silent; no one spoke and all eyes were on _him_. That's when Sayu realized that he must be talking to her father; it hadn't sunk in until that moment. She desperately wanted to cry out or something, but her voice was gone and her tongue felt like sandpaper; she actually couldn't be bothered, speaking seemed like far too much effort.

All of a sudden she just wanted to sleep. Her eyes were getting heavy and her mind dark. She was leaning back against the pushy guy's legs, but he didn't do anything to her – he too was occupied with the phone call.

"You've got a rough idea about where we are, don't you? The exchange will be made over here. You'll bring the notebook, by yourself, to L.A. In two days. Stay at the Lake Hotel."

Sayu just let the words just wash over her, her blurry vision fixed on _him_. She felt a vague sense of surprise at her location and a vague sense of horror that she would be here for two more days; but otherwise she was unaffected by it.

Pause. "I can't do that." Brief pause. "Don't worry. If I let her speak, she may try to bite off her tongue."

Who? Sayu probably figured he was talking about her; but she would never try and do something like that. The mere thought of it made her want to laugh, but she didn't have the strength for that, so she just sighed instead. Sayu hated blood and she hated pain; so putting the two together and biting off her tongue just wouldn't happen. She would have talked to her father; except she might not have had the energy to do more than mumble a few words.

God, she was tired.

"I can't make an exchange if the hostage dies again, right? But, you know, if you or I announce to the public that the kidnapper is asking for The Notebook in exchange for her, I bet she'll die." He took a bite of chocolate and lifted his head upright and fixed his gaze on her. Sayu's heart stuttered. He was smirking. "But ... I'm not the police, and I've got no intention of leaking the information. That gives you a good reason to keep this between us, you know?"

Sayu let her head droop forward listlessly, so that her hair hid her face. She was scared of his gaze; it was so intense, so piercing and it felt like he was looking into her. It felt like he could see the void he had created in her.

"Okay, okay. I'll e-mail you a picture." There was a click as he snapped the cell phone shut. Then: "Tie her up again and gag her." His will was done; the pushy guy yanked her arms behind her back and replaced the handcuffs, while another guy reapplied the duct tape. "Put her by the TV." She was dragged by her bound arms and roughly thrown down.

Fear was back. The leather clad teen knelt in front of her, his icy blue eyes meeting hers and penetrating. She whimpered softly into the tape. He flicked open the phone again, and a bald guy who was flanked by scantily clad women cooed: "Smile pretty for Daddy." There was a bright flash and a weird electronic click. There was suddenly a loud buzzing in her ears and her body felt hot. It was so hot. A hot flush of sweat began to gather on her forehead.

"There." The teen turned and placed the cell phone on a table and turned back to Sayu.

His wide eyes were the last thing she saw before the world faded out on her again.

...

No one cared that the girl had fainted. No one paid her any notice; they just continued with their work. Mello, however, stayed crouched in front of her crumpled body. He pulled off one of his leather clad gloved with his teeth and delicately touched her forehead.

Her temperature was a little too high.

Mello carefully peeled away the duct tape and forced open her mouth. Her tongue was slightly white with little pale spots.

Malnutrition.

He frowned and turned to Glen Humphreys. "Take her into my room." He ordered, and Glen wordlessly complied.

Jack Snydar grinned at Mello. "Going for another round?" He asked, with a knowing wink.

Mello sneered with disgust at the man. "No. She's sick and needs rest. They might not want damaged produce and I want that Notebook." He bit off a piece of chocolate. His gaze was long and intense and Jack broke out in a light sheen of sweat – this, he reminded himself, was why you didn't speak to Mello. The kid was freaky.

"Now, get me some water."

Jack was only too happy to comply.

...

She was laid on his bed and handcuffed to the headboard; Rod Ross insisted on taking usual precautions, even though he said: "I'm sure you'll quickly show her whose boss, right Mello?" Which was greeted by the same ladish whooping as usual. Jack brought back some water, that Mello placed disinterestedly on the bedside table.

He watched her sleep for a little while; wondering again why he found her so intriguing. Because he could not fathom her? Because she was the only person in the world to make him feel real guilt?

He then tried to pretend he didn't care and returned to his planning, leaving her to her fevered dreams.


	7. Chapter Seven: Nahrung

Meine Liebe

Chapter Seven: Nahrung

The dream moved faster than Sayu could keep up with. Faces flashed before her like a slideshow, lingering only a moment to let her recognize the features in front of her before being replaced by another: her mother, her father, Light, Misa, Mr Matsuda, Nao, Kenji, other random people from her class, then her kidnappers. No face had any emotion, and their lips never moved but their voices were shouting at her, mixed messages and Sayu couldn't make out any words, it was just noise. Noise ringing in her ears, but she couldn't scream and the faces were flashing by faster and faster until they were just blurring and the voices, the shouts were getting louder and louder until she thought her skull would split...

Sayu Yagami awoke in a fever sweat, her hair sticking to her face and groaning low in her throat.

A shadow was standing over her but her eyes wouldn't clear and she couldn't make out who it was; she couldn't focus on anything, the room around her spun and contorted; making it feel like she was being rolled around by some unseen hand, though she was perfectly stationary. And she was so hot and her stomach was churning and gurgling and she could feel bitter bile rising in her throat.

"Drink this." A distant but hard voice commanded, pressing something cold against her chapped lips. Sayu opened her mouth and obliged. The gloriously cold water slacked her dry throat and she simply couldn't swallow it fast enough. But the cup was lifted from her lips before she could get her fill.

"Not so fast. You'll throw up. And I'm not cleaning that shit up."

Sayu's eyes came into focus slowly. It was _him_. Standing a little way from the bed, cup in hand and regarding her with eyes that weren't quite as unaffected as he would probably like.

There was hardly any time to register fear or loathing because, true to his warning, her stomach convulsed suddenly and she urged. She emptied her fluid-filled stomach over the side of the bed, handcuffs jangling against the metal headboard at her shuddering movements.

He retreated a few steps out of range and his powerfully-featured face twisted with disgust. "See? What did I fucking tell you?" The words spoke annoyance but his voice had little tone or inflection and it was hard to tell what he really meant by it. It was all very hollow.

Sayu leaned back on the pillows, swallowing the vile, acidic taste in her mouth and found herself mumbling a weak apology. Her body was shaking again, but she was burning hot.

He ignored her apology, walked over to the other side of the bed, to avoid the vomit, and leaned over her again. The crucifix on his rosary brushed over her collarbone as he pressed the cup against her lips. "Slower this time."

Sayu did as she was told, too weak to do anything but comply. After she had finished, she looked up at him, still a little unfocused and feverish. "Why are you doing this?" She asked weakly, still alert enough to be mildly wary through her body's infirmity.

He met her eyes with his concentrated gaze. "Having you die would seriously fuck up my plan. And I'm not going to let you ruin months of work."

Feeling faint again, Sayu smiled softly. She let her head roll to the side. "Thank you."

Why? Why did she say that? Sayu had an odd feeling she might be hallucinating slightly or something but it just slipped out without her even thinking the words.

He pulled away from the bed, nostrils flaring and frowning slightly. "Shut up and go back to sleep."

Sayu did as she was bid.

...

Mello did not want to clean up the girl's vomit, but he did because he knew no one else in the building would do a good job of it, and he certainly did not want to room smelling like stomach acid for months to come. It was disgusting, despite the lack of substance; it was basically foul water but it stank and Mello cursed her while he was cleaning. But he could not stop himself watching her out of the corner of his eyes, noticing every twitch, frown and change of colour about her cheeks.

It was because he didn't want her to throw up again, though. Of course. That was why, after he was done cleaning the vile mess, he sat at the desk and watched her, chewing chocolate the whole time.

She looked pitiful. Waxen and greased with the sweat of illness, black hair knotted and eyes sunken, with dark shadows framing them.

She had been in their possession only two days, how could such a transformation happen? Mello had gone a whole week without food on his arrival in L.A. but he hadn't suffered anything like this. Perhaps her condition had something to do with what he had done down in that cell?

Mello gripped his rosary and clenched his fist. No. This had nothing to do with him. It was all to do with Sayu Yagami being fragile by nature; she was probably the sickly type, the first one to get flu at the change of season, the type of person who constantly had headaches or a sore throat. That was probably it.

It had nothing to do with him.

He clenched his jaw and glared at the sleeping Sayu. Stupid girl; she would not make him guilty again. He snapped the chocolate with his teeth, and chewed it quickly.

"It's nothing to do with me." He muttered, and she stirred slightly. "You're just weak."

It sounded as unimpressive and unconvincing out loud as it did internally. Mello sighed and ran a hand over his tired face. No matter how many times he told himself he didn't care, that she was stupid, worthless and a tool, he could not get this girl out of his head. She filled it and occupied him completely. While he should of been plotting the uses of the Notebook, a notebook that could kill someone simply by writing their name in it, a notebook that was the ultimate weapon and would give him the complete power he had always craved, he was occupied with why Sayu Yagami made him feel guilty when he raped her.

It was stupid. It was unforgivable. It wasn't like him at all.

But he couldn't stop. And it was beginning to worry him.


	8. Chapter Eight: Rückgewinnung

Meine Liebe

Chapter Eight: Rückgewinnung

That night passed slowly, with Sayu waking every other hour or so. She drank water every time she awoke and, after he was convinced her shrunken stomach could handle it, he fed her a little stale bread. It was only a little, but it did wonders; by the morning her temperature had nearly gone and the dizziness subsided.

Mello was a little relieved, but only because it meant he had his bargaining tool back to health. Naturally.

...

There was an uncomfortable feeling low in Sayu's stomach, pressing against the waist-band of her jeans. She shifted, trying to get into a more comfortable position; the handcuffs jangled nosily against the headboard. There was no mistaking that pressure, but it was still embarrassing to ask. She had been writhing around for half an hour now, hoping that the jangling noise of her moving would annoy him enough to ask her what was the matter; but he had not once paused in his manic typing and Sayu was getting desperate.

Sayu had quickly come to realize that he wasn't going to do anything else to her in the immediate future, but she was scared of provoking him and therefore had become a timid and untalkative thing, keeping her eyes lowered and communicating only in nods. She had brushed off his attempts at conversation earlier in the day and wasn't really that surprised that he ignored her when she cleared her throat, and stuttered a little "Ummm..."

"Ummm ..." Sayu paused, and realized she still did not actually know her captor's name. So she settled with a small-voiced: "Excuse me."

The quick and steady drumming of his typing stopped. "What?"

"Ummm..." Sayu felt a little blush creeping across her worn and pale face. "I have to go."

He swivelled in his seat and fixed her with the usual blank and hard stare. "What?"

"Ummm..." Sayu lowered her eyes to look at her feet, and the handcuffs jangled as she shifted uncomfortably, hating the way his piercing blue eyes never left her face. "I have to go. To the bathroom."

"Oh. Right." There was a little pause, where he remained staring at her. "Can't you hold it? I'm really busy." He turned again, and Sayu let out a rather too loud protest.

"No!" She chewed her lip, scared. She hadn't meant to shout. "No, I can't."

He heaved a hissing sigh, got to his feet, and walked tauntingly slow over to the bed. She could help but flinch as he crawled over her, she swallowed her squeal and rather than focus on their close proximity, focused on the rosary that was bumping in her face as he unchained her. As it swung in and out of her focal point, she remarked that it was a very intricate and beautiful piece; though it looked plain and simple from a distance, up close it was carved delicately with patterns and coloured with golds and reds that glimmered softly in the light. She wondered if he was perhaps a Catholic; if he were he had to be pretty lax in his beliefs to go actively get behind such schemes as this. It was more likely just a formality, a salute to his past and what he had left behind.

"There." He placed the handcuffs on the bedside table, next to the empty glass and a half-eaten piece of bread. Sayu attempted to sit up, and found it much more of a struggle than she had imagined. And when she pulled herself off the bed, her knees gave way and she grabbed hold of him to stop herself from falling. He groaned a little under the surprise of extra weight, but he didn't shove her away; he just stood there, awkwardly holding her waist as she steadied herself.

"Alright?"

She nodded, not relaxing the bruise-worthy hold on his arm. "Come on then." He guided her, supporting most of her weight. Sayu was pleased to observe that his grip was gentle and that he let her take his time, though she had to admit that he didn't seem happy about it. Perhaps because he had to lead her through the main room, and the men all broke into the usual cat-calls.

She never let her eyes wander from the floor, and neither did he; so neither of them saw the deep frown Rod Ross gave as they walked by. The mob boss paid particular attention to the teen's grip; it was loose, like he didn't want to hurt her. The boss could have thrown up – Mello was being gentle with her; and after all he'd done to raise that boy right. Perhaps he'd have words before anyone else noticed how weak that was.

...

She eased herself down on the pillows, surprisingly and thoroughly worn-out by that little excursion. He was leaning over her again to reapply the handcuffs and the rosary was hanging in her face again. She suddenly had a childish need to touch it – she reached out one pale had and grabbed at it, like a kitten, and ran her finger quickly down the bumps and grooves that made up the cruciforms' decoration. She noticed him looking down at her, frowning but vaguely amused.

"Oh. Sorry." She apologized quickly.

"It's fine." He crawled off the bed and threw the spare handcuffs to the side. "I don't see the point in keeping you completely tied up. And having to feed you is degrading to the both of us."

"Thank you." Sayu said wearily and wondered why he started when she said it.

He turned on his heel and fixed her with a hard and suddenly very emotional gaze. She had never seen his eyes be anything but blank or angry; seeing them glimmer was slightly unnerving, but it made them come alive, become mildly beautiful. "Don't say that." He said, voice low.

"Sorry."

"Don't say that either." And then, just like that, all sentiment was gone, and he was turning his back on her. "Shut up and go to sleep."

"Ok."

The steady tapping of his typing recommenced, allowing Sayu to wonder about what had just happened. For a brief second, she'd been allowed to look past his cold, Mafia demeanour and see the man, the boy underneath. For the briefest of moments she'd been allowed to see _him_, and what she saw wasn't hard and heartless.

But just like that the coldness had returned. And then something else occurred to her, when he had been reapply her handcuffs, she hadn't shied away. What he had done was fresh and deeply ingrained in her mind, but she was no longer afraid. Why? What had warranted the sudden forgiveness? The fleeting kindness at her bedside last night; but surely such a thing could not undo the horror of the violation? Or was it the glimpse of humanity in his eyes that had changed her mind, that sudden and quick show of a kind soul.

Sayu swallowed. "Ummm..."

He sighed, breath hissing between his teeth. "What now?"

Sayu swallowed, losing courage fast. "Never mind."

The door was flung open and it bounced nosily against the wall. A bald, wide shouldered man stood, or rather blocked, the doorway. His body was obscenely toned and muscled and his eyes were just as intense as her captor, but his were strangely dead and reptilian. "Mello. We need to talk."

The boy looked up from his work, met his bosses gaze for a few moments. "Right." He got up, leather creaking and followed Rod Ross without giving Sayu a passing glance, shutting the door softly behind him.

Mello? Was Mello honestly his name? What kind of name was that, anyway? Well, _his_ of course; but it was obviously an alias, or perhaps his parents were hippies. But she could not imagine the hard faced Mello being the son of a free spirit.

She sighed and let her head fall back on the pillow. She felt like she was over analysing things. So his name was Mello and he no longer scared her; these were the facts. She didn't need to think any more about them, right? Sayu rolled onto her side and grabbed the cup on the bed side table; it was half full of stagnant water, but she drank it anyway. Her body was still weak from the fever.

Weak, vulnerable and easily overpowered.

Someone else had figured that too, and he was watching her now, through the slightly open crack in the door

...

"Mello, what's going on." Rod Ross demanded, rather than asked. Because simply asking something means that there is the possibility of being denied the answers, and Rod Ross was not the type of person to deny. His large, heavy hand was on Mello's slim shoulder as they walked side by side down the narrow and shadowed corridor.

Mello pulled out a new bar of chocolate and unwrapped it slowly. "What do you mean?"

Rod Ross laughed; it was a strange sound, a low grumbling that seemed to originate from his lungs. "That girl. Sayroo or whatever her fucking name is." Rod halted. Mello looked up at him, frowning on the outside, confused on the in.

"What about her?"

"You're being to gentle with the slut. Slap her around a bit." Rod Ross smirked at his protégée. "It's just like a told you, girls are only good for one thing, and she needs to learn that."

Mello chewed away, frown deepening slightly. "I don't see the point; she'll only be here for one more day. And they might not do the deal if she's damaged."

Rod laughed again, but with no hint of humour. "You know and I know that that's not the case. She's this Yagami guy's daughter. Hell, he'd take her if she was missing limbs. Don't make such weak excuses Mello, it's not like you." Rod's smile fell. "Not like you at all."

Mello met his hard stare easily, but offered no reply. Rod continued: "So she was ill or whatever. Fuck that. Annie was sick but that didn't stop me."

Annie had been a little more than sick, she had, in fact, been pregnant with Rod Ross's child. But she had said something out of turn, something the boss hadn't liked about being a father, so he had beaten her. Throwing punches at her face and stomach until she lost the baby and nearly lost her life.

Mello's face twisted with repulsion, and he tore away from the boss's grip. Rod laughed suddenly. "I knew it. You've gone soft." He sighed. "But I won't allow that, Mello. You've come too far for that, and I won't let you go soft."

Mello glared. "I haven't gone soft, Rod. She means nothing to me and the second she steps out of line, I'll remind her of that. But other than that I don't see the point."

Rod's lips twitched into a smirk. "Why wait until she's out of line? Teach that bitch her place."

Then, from down the corridor, a muffled, feminine scream.


	9. Chapter Nine: Retter

_I don't know whether you can tell, but I don't like Jack Snydar and I don't know why. He's been really annoying and stupid so far in this story and I don't really know why I'm picking on him. Poor guy. Oh well, old habits die hard I suppose. Sorry for the reupload; but typos make me cry and I must get rid of them._

Meine Liebe

Chapter Nine: Retter

Mello started at the sound; it was unmistakeably Sayu. He turned, looked anxiously back down the corridor, where his room's door lay open, streaming pale light into the darkness – his stomach dropped coldly, and he didn't know why. Rod Ross laid a heavy hand on his shoulder once again and squeezed, almost as if trying to break him. "She means nothing to you, remember?" He said, in a low and taunting voice; the boss was really enjoying this.

Mello forcefully pushed the heavy hand away. He bared his teeth. "Fuck you Rod. I told everyone not to touch her."

...

Jack Snydar forcefully held her jaw open with one hand, and dipping in his foul tasting tongue between her lips and knotted it with hers. Her uncuffed hand was punching at his chest, but she was weak and it was useless because he'd gotten a taste and wasn't going to stop. His other hand snaked up under her shirt and dug his blunt nails into the soft flesh of her stomach.

Sayu cried out and the sound reverberated in their enclosed mouths. Jack smiled against her lips, and then bit her.

Sayu was panicking; crying and screaming and struggling, though she was so weak that none of these things did any good. If anything they just wore her out, made her even weaker. She was so scared. It was going to happen again. It was going to happen again.

Jack's cold, lecherous hand reached the swell of her breast and clamped down hard. Sayu squealed, struggled even harder, eyes clamped tightly shut. But his touch got heavier, running back down her body to her waist, to the top of her jeans...

And just like that, his weight was off her. She heard him hit the floor, and her eyes shot open.

Mello was standing over the bloody-nosed Jack Snydar, face pale and hard. The blonde teen grabbed the front of the lackey's shirt and pretty much lifted him off the ground so that their faces were inches apart. His breath was shallow and angry. "What the _fuck_ did I tell you about touching her?" His voice was low and beautifully dangerous.

Jack didn't answer. He shoved Mello away and staggered towards the door; but the blonde grabbed him and flung him into a wall, twisting his arm behind his back and pressing his long face against the cold concrete. "Fucking answer me when I talk to you."

When Jack spoke, Sayu observed, with some fear-mixed pleasure, that his teeth were coated with blood from a cut mouth. "I was just doing what the boss told me to do." His voice was breathless and small; clearly terrified.

Mello grunted and let go of his twisted arm. "I'll make you pay, Jack. Just you fucking wait."

Snydar couldn't get out of that room fast enough. And then, with a quick, fluid movement, Mello was kneeling beside her, wiping blood from her bitten lip. "Are you ok?" His voice was low and surprisingly kind. Once again, Sayu could see sparkling humanity in his eyes and it was unreserved. It was like he was allowing her to see him properly for the first time.

Sayu nodded.

There was a brief pause.

Sayu shook her head and the flood gates broke.

She cried and she didn't care that her face looked crumpled and ugly or that her nose began to run because, for some strange and unknown reason, she was not afraid of Mello, she was no longer uncomfortable with him. It was completely illogical and unlike her; but that didn't stop it being true.

He unchained her other arm and did something that was unexpected; yet it was something she suddenly realized she wanted more than anything. He scooped her into his lap and hugged her like he never wanted to let go. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed openly into his shoulder. He placed his arms around her protectively, one hand on her lower back, the other soothingly stroking her dark, soft hair. It was slightly greasy because she hadn't been allowed to shower for three days, but it was still sleek and gorgeous to touch. He rested his head on her shoulder, turning his face to her neck and breathing in the soft perfume of her skin.

"Tomorrow you'll be going home." He mumbled against her collarbone, his warm breath tickling her soft skin. Sayu's breathing finally began to calm, gasps of air slowing her sobs. But Mello could still feel her shaking against him and held her tighter. "I'm so sorry. For what it's worth, you'll never have to think about me, or this, ever again."

Sayu's grip fell from his neck to a more relaxed place on his upper back. After a few moments of silence, she turned her head. "I forgive you."

Mello started when she pressed a light kiss to his cheek. "This may sound stupid Mello, but I think I'll always be thinking of you."

Mello pulled back a little and looked in her eyes, impenetrably deep and the colour of dark chocolate. "What?"

She grinned, released one of her arms and wiped away some stray tears that still clung to her cheeks. "I like you. A lot. I won't forget you."

The boy frowned. "It would be best for both of us if you forgot. And why the fuck do you like me? You should hate me. My very being should be the bane of your life; my face should make you sick to your stomach." His face hardened suddenly and averted his eyes from her face. "You should be trying to escape from me."

Sayu placed a gentle hand on his face and stroked the smooth, tanned skin. Mello frowned, but he didn't push her away and his intense blue gaze remained fixed on the blank wall. "I don't know what it is or why but I think ... I think I might be kind of in love with you."

Mello started, frown deepening and thin lips twisting. He fixed her with that ever-piercing gaze of his. "What are you, fucking crazy?" He pushed her of his lap and retreated to the other side of the room. He stood with his back to her. "Like I said, you should hate me. And if you can't bring yourself to do that, then I think it'll be in your best interest to forget me Sayu."

Sayu crawled to the edge of the bed and watched him mournfully. She wasn't quite sure if she loved this strange, violent, kind man; but he made her feel odd – she couldn't quite explain it. It wasn't that bubbly feeling she had had with all her childish crushes, or the love she felt for Kenji; it was a full feeling, like something was being put back into her, something that she had lost. She wondered fleetingly if she was crazy. Then she realized that she didn't actually care. Maybe she was; it was hard to go unaffected by what had happened to her over the past few days, but she didn't mind. All she wanted was for him to look at her and tell her he felt the same.

Such a sudden uprising in strong feeling was almost overwhelming.

Sayu swallowed. "Mello?"

The boy didn't say anything, but he turned his head slightly, so she took that as a signal that he was listening.

"Mello, I'm going home tomorrow. And I will forget about you; or, at least, I promise I'll try." She sighed heavily and pulled herself unevenly off the bed. "And I won't think about you, or if I do I'll distract myself."

"Good." His voice was bitter and hard.

"But, we have a little time before I have to go." Sayu paused. He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Come here please."

He didn't move. He didn't blink. He didn't show any sign of emotion. "What?"

Sayu sighed. Wordlessly she walked towards him, stood before him, took his hands and placed them about her waist. He didn't fight her advances, but he didn't initiate; he just watched her, eyes sparkling and vaguely amused.

She stood on her toes and kissed him lightly on the lips, only just brushing his with her own.

For a moment, they just stood and stared at each other; Mello's arms around her waist, Sayu's hands on his shoulders. Then in a natural, quick movement; it was hard to tell whose will snapped first; they came together hungrily. Lips meshed, tongues battling, teeth occasionally colliding in the fervour of their kiss. It was desperate and hungry, because this would be the last night they had together, the last time they would ever be together.

Mello lifted her off her feet; Sayu wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her blindly to the bed.

This was their last chance.

...

He was not there when she woke in the morning.

Some guy came for her early and barely allowed her time to dress before blindfolding her and taking her away. It felt like forever before she was allowed to take off the blindfold.

She was nearly shot. She was reunited with her father. She was taken home. Her mother held her and cried for hours.

And through it all Sayu came to a realization: forgetting Mello was impossible. Not only was it impossible, it was a unforgivable crime and she would not allow it.


	10. Chapter Ten: Wiedervereinigung

_Thanks again to all my reviewers and all the great feedback. I'm glad you all like the story so far and I love you guys for taking the time to read it. You are all awesome. Sorry if this chapter turns out crap, but I spilt loads of incense oil and I think the fumes are getting me high. I've gone all dizzy and giggly. Wow, am I a light-weight._

Meine Liebe

Chapter Ten: Wiedervereinigung Und Abschied

Sayu quickly realized something: it may have been impossible to stop thinking about Mello, but the fact that she awoke every morning with him in her mind and fell asleep with his voice in her memories, this obsession with him, was tearing her apart. She couldn't concentrate on anything; nothing was interesting. She did not participate in conversations, she did not leave the house for fear he would come while she was away, and she stopped answering her phone. All she did, day in, day out, was sit at the window and wistfully watch – she didn't know what for; but she could not be torn away from her post.

As the days, weeks and months rolled by, Sayu realized something else, something very painful: she would never see Mello again.

All that time, deep down, Sayu had been harbouring a hope that he would come for her. She thought that he would be thinking of her too, that he would driven insane by the loneliness and would find her; she knew he could find her if he wanted.

But he never came, never gave any sign; it was almost as if he had been a fleeting dream, something she had created, and his existence was only in her mind.

Sayu shrunk into herself. She became completely unresponsive. She forced herself mute with longing and closed her ears to the, at first angry, later terrified attempts at interaction by her mother.

In the end, Sayu was taken out of school and given time to recover; her break down attributed by doctors and psychiatrists to stress.

Sayu never considered that she was taking this too far, that she was over reacting to the loss of a boy who was little more than a five hour love; who had kidnapped, held her against her will and raped her. What type of man was that? Why would he deserve her love? But she never thought of him like that, in such unfavourable light. He was all that was right in the world.

At first.

But surely enough, the doubt began to keep in on her. She began to doubt him, and her own emotions. Why? What caused such a tremor in her faith?

Her father's death. And Light, her big brother, intelligent and strong and always, always right; who looked their mother straight in the eyes, when she questioned why, and said: "It was Sayu's kidnapper. He killed Dad."

Sayu did not want to believe; but her brother's voice had been so stern, so sure, that she began to doubt what she felt for Mello. Light had always been right; everything Light had ever said to her, from childhood to the present, had been the truth. Why would he start to bend the facts now? And why blame Mello if it wasn't him? Light would not lie to them like that. There was no way in hell. And there would be no point. It would be childish goading to make their mother hate Mello even more; she already had a full vendetta against the unknown and faceless man.

So, maybe Mello had done it?

Sayu's mind started to heal itself, she grew stronger pretty much over night. She would never forget the expression her mother wore when, on the day of her Father's funeral, Sayu walked down into the kitchen of her own accord, having dressed herself entirely in black of her own accord, and sat across from her at the table and taken her hand of her own accord. Sayu knew it was time to put herself back together and be strong for her mother, who, it seemed, had lost everything – locked in a house with an unresponsive daughter, a son who never came home, and her life's love dead. Sayu decided to cast off the bindings of her self-centred despair and support the one who had raised her in her time of need.

Together they stood at the grave, long after the ceremony had finished; and Sachiko found it hard to believe that the daughter who was now rubbing soothing circles about her back as she cried, was the same daughter who had sat and stared blankly in a wheelchair the night before.

Sayu cured herself; no, time cured Sayu and she let go of the past.

She did not know how to feel about Mello. She could not love him until she knew the truth; but she also could not hate him, because she could not truly believe he murdered her father.

Though, soon enough, life returned to normal, and she was going to college, constantly ringing Nao and passively wondering why only Misa came to visit nowadays. Mello almost slipped from her mind. Almost.

...

"Oh. My. God. Did he really say that?" Sayu questioned excitedly, climbing the stairs, phone glued to her ear. If what Nao said was true, then this would be _huge_. Being back in the centre of the gossip felt so good.

"Yeah, he said it right to my face. Should we tell Mariko? Well ... _you'd _have to tell her, because I don't have her number. But should we?"

"Well, yeah. She has a right to know." Sayu opened her bedroom door and slipped into the cool, dark room. Very cool, dark room. Cold, dark room. "If _my_ boyfriend said something like that _I'd _want people to tell me." She flicked on the light and froze.

Her window was flung open, light curtains fluttering restlessly in the biting winter wind. And there, sat on the low stoop of the window still was Mello, like he'd fallen straight from her head and into existence. Nao chatted away in her ear but Sayu didn't hear a word, the sound didn't even register in her mind. He was almost exactly how she remembered him, same battered leather attire, same sleek blonde hair, same powerful but beautiful features; only now a fierce scar claimed most of the left side of his face.

From an explosion?

Light had said their father died in an explosion.

It wasn't like in the movies; it wasn't a wild reunion, and they did not fall into each other's arms crying a kissing and vowing never to leave each other again. They just stared at each other; Sayu feeling oddly empty and dazed. It felt like nothing more than another dream to her.

After what felt like forever, but could only have been a few minutes, Sayu managed to recall that she was on the phone and that Nao was getting kind of worried that she wasn't answering; perhaps she was worried she had been kidnapped again? That would be awful, Sayu wouldn't let her friend go through that again. "I'm sorry Nao-chan; I'll call you back later, kay?"

"But Say-"

She flipped the phone shut and discarded it. Finally Mello stood up; the first sign of life he'd given since reappearing. "Sayu. It's been awhile."

"Yeah. Awhile."

Sayu shook her head, trying to snap herself out of this weird Mello-induced daze she'd slipped into. "What are you doing here, Mello? I thought you were never going to see you again."

Mello's eyes, hard as always, softened suddenly. "I missed you. And, while I was in Tokyo, I couldn't resist. I couldn't help myself."

She was caught off guard by his honesty. "Oh. I missed you too." She sat herself on her bed; he remained in the corner and they resumed staring at each other. It was unbearably awkward. She never would have imagined that the reunion with her lover, the one she had obsessed and cried over, the one she'd gotten so depressed over, she never would have thought being with him would be so uncomfortable.

Mello took a few steady steps forward, and knelt at her feet. He clasped her small hands in his larger, leather-clad ones and stared earnestly into her eyes. His own were still open and human and filled with a desperation that was unnerving. "Do you hate me?"

"What?" A small, scared frown flit across her face. There was a sharp intake of breath and her eyes widened. "Then ... you did? Oh, you _did_ kill ... my ... my..." Sayu was surprisingly emotionless and empty – she thought, when the time came, she would fly into a frenzy and kick him out of the house, but instead, she just sat there complacently with her hands in his and stared at the wall.

"I didn't want to. God knows that I never wanted to. But you ..." He broke off, painfully aware that she wasn't able to look at him. It was stupid, but Mello found himself hurt by this. Over the months they were apart, he had expected his 'love' for her to fade, like every other 'love' he had experienced; but instead, it grew to a peak of loneliness and longing that was unbearable. And now he was here again, with her, and he was fast losing her.

Mello stood in her line of vision, and held her hands tight when she tried to wrestle them free. "He was going to kill me Sayu. He knew my _name_._"_

Finally, some emotion surfaced within her; and it was stinging betrayal. "You killed my father." Her voice shook as she spoke and she couldn't bring herself to look directly at him. "You killed my father; yet you still have the audacity to come here and try to justify it. He had your name? He had your _name_. So what? What does that have to do with anything?" Sayu angrily blinked back the tears that were stinging her eyes.

Mello, still clinging to her hands in a surprisingly vice-like grip, hardened his eyes and held her in his intense gaze. For a moment Sayu was back in awe of the power and authority held in his look; it had been a while since she was last under its influence. "There is a notebook, Sayu, that can kill people. It's a notebook we used you to trade for. Basically you need someone's face and name to kill them; then all you need to do is write their real name in the notebook and that person will die. And your father was about to use it on me."

Sayu stared; she didn't want to believe this, but she recalled, when she was about to be swapped, that guy in the mask 'testing' the notebook. That's what it must have meant.

"But, my father ... he would of killed with it... he wasn't like that." Her voiced gave a little tremor.

Sensing weakness, Mello knelt at her feet again. "I didn't want to. I didn't want to. I even told him that I didn't want to, that I was sorry for all the shit I'd done and that I was sorry for what I was going to do." Her breath was coming in short, sharp breaths , so he knew she was crying even though she hung her head and hid her face with a vale of ebony hair. "But I did it in a way that was least likely to kill him. In blowing the place up, he might have survived. And let me tell you something, Sayu; _he _would not have awarded me with the same mercy with that notebook at his disposal."

There was a long pause after that; the silence was heavy, and the light scraping of the curtains on the wall was like rolling thunder in the stillness.

Sayu slowly rolled her head up to look at him. Tracks of make-up ran down her pale face and her eyes were red and bulging. "So what? You're sorry?"

Mello did not like the tone of her voice.

"You killed my father, and you're sorry?" She gave him a disbelieving smile. "In what world is that an alright thing to say? If you're looking for my forgiveness, I can't give it to you. But I ..." She paused. "I believe that you didn't want to."

She swallowed. "I don't forgive you. But I don't hate you." Sayu was beginning to believe that she was actually mentally unwell. Looking back on the facts: Mello had kidnapped her, raped her, held her against her will, starved her and unintentionally killed her father. And she could not find it within herself to hate him? In Mello's own words: was she crazy?

Mello kissed her hands; the action made her jump, but she didn't hit out. Instead, she cautiously reached out and caressed the rough, twisted scar on his face, making him flinch. "Does it hurt?"

"Not any more." He regarded her with cautious eyes. "So, what? Are we just going to ignore my confession and carry on the way we were?"

Sayu nodded once, and wiped her eyes on the back on her hand, smearing black make-up down her cheek. "Yes. You know where I stand on the matter, and I know how you feel. Neither of those things are going to change. Let's leave it, shall we?"

Mello looked almost amused. "You're fucking crazy."

"Says the man who blew up my father."

Sayu got to her feet and stopped any protest by pressing a kiss to his lips, light and tender. She really must have been insane for loving the man before her; but the fact remained that she was. For some strange, unnatural reason, she was drawn to Mello and she could not give him up. It was illogical, it was twisted and it seemed fucking stupid to her, never mind what other people would think; but she couldn't stop herself. There was something about this dangerous young man that she was perilously drawn to; like a power greater than them were pulling them together, like they were tied together by the strings of fate.

Or maybe, just maybe, she was mentally unstable. Instability brought on by the large and unexpected levels of stress produced in the few days of her kidnapping.

It came down to insanity or the gods; but either way, when she pulled away, she whispered in his ear: "You can stay the night if you promise to be quiet."


	11. Chapter Eleven: Liebe

_Thanks yet again for the great reviews, you guys are so awesome. And I know I say that with every update, but it is true. Matt has been added in this chapter. Finally. Poor Matty, being left out for so long._

Meine Liebe

Chapter Eleven: Liebe

Of course, when she awoke the next day, he had already gone; that seemed to be something he did a lot. And she had caught a cold from him throwing back the covers and leaving the window open when he left, leaving her body exposed to the full power of the winter winds.

So, with bleary eyes and a vaguely aching head, she got up and fulfilled her day. It was not strange that she had come down with an illness over night, Sayu had always had a weak immune system so that was not out of the ordinary; what _was _strange was that she didn't really feel it. Normally she would have been complaining to anyone who would listen about her blocked sinuses and thumping head; but there was something warming within her that distracted her from the extreme pain the slight cold would otherwise inflicted. And this warmth was, of course, called Mello.

All through College, she sat and thought of him. When Nao and the others were discussing Mariko and her now 'evil' ex-boyfriend, Sayu barely joined in; for once in her life, she didn't feel like talking about other people's problems. All she wanted to do was sit and think.

She wondered if she was falling in love with her ex-kidnapper. No, there was no wondering about it; Sayu had woken up this morning adamant that she was already in love with that man.

It felt so natural; like the only logical thing to come from her confinement would have been love. Sayu had never been in love before though, so the complete taking over of all her senses and thoughts was almost tantalizing; it was like she was no longer controlling her mind. She would try and think of her work, or the conversations going on around her, but her brain would always find a way to link it back to Mello.

In class, she would be scanning the text in front of her, trying to focus on the lecture; but then her eyes would come to rest on a certain word and a chain would start up – for instance, she might see the word 'brown'; brown is a colour, brown is the colour of chocolate, chocolate is Mello's favourite food, Mello is fantastic, I hope I get to see Mello soon, Mello, Mello, Mello. Then, her friends would be talking about Mariko's ex-boyfriend, and yet another chain would begin – Daisuke is horrible, he was harsh to call Mariko pig-faced, but he had seemed so nice at the party, he had been wearing the cutest clothes, his parents were rich, Sayu had heard that they were strict Christians, but she didn't know what type, they could be Catholics, Catholics wear rosaries, Mello had a rosary, Mello, Mello, Mello ...

The day passed like that, and Sayu felt like it was drifting by in a blur of colour and noise that did not affect her.

She even thought about Mello on the way home; wondering about what he was doing now, wondering if she was going to see him again, wondering if last night had been a one night thing, hoping that he gave her more respect than that.

She did not notice the bright red car stop beside her, or see the bright red boy who got out of it; she only noticed when he called her name, and she gave him the same look she would have given someone who had dropped out of the sky.

"Sayu Yagami?"

"Yeah." She took a cautious step backwards and eyed the boy suspiciously. He was obviously foreign; with such pale skin and violently red hair, there was no way he could be even slightly Japanese. She took another step backwards. "Why?"

He flicked away a cigarette and immediately lit up another. "Mello asked me to pick you up. Get in the car."

Sayu immediately obeyed. She was so blinded by Mello that she would even get into a stranger's car with no questions asked; that was bad, she had always been such a cautious person, second guessing everything and not acting until several reassurances had been given. Mello had changed that, with his intense but sincere eyes and his wet, open mouthed, chocolate flavoured kisses. He had changed Sayu from a cautious, simple girl into something else, something less easy to define. At first the transformation had been slow, and she had sunk into herself; but with him suddenly returning into her life the night before and suddenly brought about a perceived metamorphosis within her.

Sayu wondered, as she climbed into the leather covered passenger seat, if love did this to all people; or was her sudden confidence and obsession unique to her love.

The engine purred smoothly to life; it sounded expensive and high-class. Sayu shot the red-headed boy and look of a approval and he winked at her from behind yellow-tinted goggles.

"It's a nice car." She said appreciatively, trying to start conversation.

"Yeah, I thought so too. I stole it last month, and I'm telling you, it's the sweetest ride I've ever had." He adjusted the stick and hit the gas.

Sayu had never driven so fast on a main Tokyo street before; he drove like a man with a death wish, but the rush of adrenaline was dangerously invigorating. People where diving out of the way and anything in their way went flying after a rough introduction to the car's bumper.

Of course, going at such speeds meant that the journey was over in half the time it normally would of taken. They arrived in a very rough looking neighbourhood that Sayu had never been to before; the apartment buildings were crowded close together and the dirty brick structures sat squat on the landscape, interspersed here and there with dark and narrow alleyways.

He parked the car snugly in an heavily graffitied alley, it's bonnet only inches away from a slimy and battered looked dumpster. The expensive model looked painfully out of place.

The red-haired boy got out, manoeuvred himself to her side of the narrow alley and held open the door for her with a half-joking: "Mind the paint."

He led her into the building directly adjacent to the car and up several flights of foul smelling stairs. Eventually, they reached the last apartment on the fifth floor and Sayu was painfully out of breath, for she had tried to match the red-head's rapid pace. He seemed barely ruffled by their up-hill hike as he pushed open the door with a crooked "109" on the front.

The apartment was small and sparsely furnished: a battered old couch, ripped and cut in several places was against the peeling wall, situated directly in front of it was a tv with several gaming consoles plugged into it; there was a dirty, off-white plastic table against the opposite wall, which held an old and equally battered computer, in front of which sat Mello.

"Got her." The red-head said, directly throwing himself in front of the tv.

Mello didn't even look up. "Matt, get out. I have some things I need to discuss with Sayu."

"But, it's _my_ apartment. Why don't you get out?"

Mello turned in his seat and gave Matt a look so intense, so commanding, that the younger boy posed no other argument. He got up promptly and left without another word, leaving the two together.


	12. Chapter Twelve: Tiefer Kummer

Update:  _Oh sweet Jesus, I haven't updated this in bare time. Any way, I was reading through this and I spotted a grammatical error, and I just had to fix it. And yeah, I just wanted to use this opportunity to tell you that I have finally worked out an ending for this. So that shall be coming shortly. I love all of you who have reviewed so far, you've all been so supportive. _

Meine Liebe

Chapter Twelve: Tiefer Kummer

For a moment, Mello continued with his work at the computer, leaving Sayu standing there watching him with a rising feeling of anxiety. What did he need to talk about? Was he going to break up with her? Wait, they weren't even 'going out' – but still, there was a heavy, cold feeling spreading through her gut at the mere thought of it. Was last night really a one night thing? Was that it ... had he brought her here to break it to her nicely, bring her down slow?

Sayu felt mildly angry with herself as the tears started to form. Fear was a terrible thing.

She twisted her hands into the sleeves of her loose black jacket and watched him work. Several time he glanced at her, but he did not stop. The sound of his typing was barely audible over the dull hum of the streets outside and the screech of an argument, in a language Sayu did not understand, in the apartment above them.

After what felt like an hour, Mello sat back in his chair and beckoned to her. Sayu felt a little offended by the silent summon but obeyed; and gave a little cry of surprise when he pulled her onto his lap and smothered her in his arms. He was delightfully warm against her cold and slight frame, and his arms felt like a protective barrier around her. But there was something in his embrace that troubled Sayu, something that made her pull away and stare into his vacant eyes; his touch felt a little too desperate.

"Mello." She reached out and gently caressed his face, trailing down until her fingers rested just above his collarbone. "Mello, what's wrong?"

Mello said nothing, but lent forward and kissed her instead. The kiss was surprisingly soft and long in comparison to his tight embrace; he only hovered on her lips, a light brush, but a long capture of lips. She could feel his expression against her; his lips were down-turned this time, whereas he normally smiled. This caused Sayu to pull away once more and fix him with a concerned look.

"Something's happened, hasn't it?"

Mello leant forward again, but Sayu pushed him gently back.

"Mello. Tell me. Please."

He sighed. "It's nothing. I just ... nothing." He began to rub soothing circles around Sayu's back.

She leant forward, kissed him again, and when she pulled away, let her forehead rest against his. His warm breath tickled her face and smelled slightly of chocolate. "It's _something_. Please; maybe I can help you."

"No. There's nothing you can do to help me now, Sayu." His voice was low and melancholy, and Sayu felt a rising panic once again.

"Why?" Sayu leant back and stared searchingly into his face. His icy eyes were down-turned and heavy and so very sad. In that instant, he did not look like Mello – he looked like a lost little boy, looking desperately for home but seeing nothing but strange faces. "Why?" Sayu heard her voice quiver as she repeated that one little word; a word that could potentially change everything; and judging by the look on Mello's face, everything _was_ going to change.

Mello sighed again. For a moment, he did nothing but clutch his rosary; in that moment there was no sound but the drone of traffic and the soft clinking of the beads against each other. "I have to do this thing, to do with the Kira case." His mournful eyes were unblinking and unfocused, staring at nothing. Sayu's stomach did a little jolt – why was Mello getting involved with Light's case? What did he have to do with some psycho 'justice' bringer? "And it's essential that I do this thing. You have to understand that – if I don't, the whole thing will fall apart. You understand?"

Sayu nodded, chewing her thin lip.

Mello finally blinked and shifted his gaze to her, and the mass swirl of emotion in those bright blue eyes was staggering. Those, which had once been so emotionless, were so alive Sayu could not process all that she was seeing – fear, sadness, a hint of anger, love, anxiety and, above all, desperation. So much desperation.

He swallowed. "I am going to die."

"No." Her reaction was immediate, and her desperation matched his. "No, you're not." She shook her head; her insides were icy and numb, and the world had melted completely away; there was just her, Mello and the chair they sat on left in existence now.

"I have to? Weren't you fucking listening to me? _I have to_." For a moment, Mello turned back to the Mafia boss she had met what felt like a lifetime ago in America. He was even snarling at her. But Sayu did not let that deter her.

"You don't have to do anything. Of course you don't. You don't even have to do anything. The Kira case has nothing to do with you, so you don't even have to do anything." Sayu had turned into some sort of motor-mouth, and with every sentence her voice rose a little higher in tone. The cold numbness of shock was fast melting away to the burning heat of desperation and fear. Mello did not look convinced; if anything, he looked angry.

"It has everything to do with me. _Everything._ You don't know anything Sayu; you have no fucking idea."

"Then _tell_ me." Her voice broke as she shouted it. Why she was shouting, she did not know. But she obviously could not control herself, because a second later she broke into a torrent of passionate tears. Mello quickly melted then.

She sobbed into his chest: "Just tell me, just tell me, you can tell me, please."

She felt Mello take a deep breath. "I inherited the Kira case. L died, so it's up to me and some other little freak to finish it in his memory."

"What?" Sayu sat up slightly so she could look at him, swiping her still streaming eyes on the back of her sleeve. "L isn't dead. He still gives out reports on the tv."

Mello shook his head. "The real L is dead – that is the second L. Your brother."

"Light? Light is L?"

Mello gave a brisk nod. "Yeah. He is." He paused, looked Sayu over, and briefly wondered if he should tell her the truth about her beloved big brother. But she looked so fragile and little and sensitive that he couldn't bring himself to; even if he hated Light with the intensity of a million burning suns and wanted to turn the whole world against him, Mello could not bare to tell her. It could very well break her.

She drew in a shuddering breath. "I ... I just don't understand why. Why do you have to?"

"Because if I don't, no one will." He said softly. "And then Kira would never be stopped."

Sayu drew in another shuddering breath, trying to control herself and not quite succeeding. She opened her mouth to speak, but a sob came out instead, and she flopped forward helplessly, resting her head on his chest.

"I'm sorry Sayu. I'm so sorry."

"I. Don't. Want you to. Leave me." She managed to force out those words through her hysterics.

"Neither do I." Mello's voice quivered slightly, though it was barely perceptible, and he hastily blinked back a few tears. Perhaps tonight would be the first time he would cry since the death of his parents. Mello was willing to admit that his emotions were melting him for the first time in forever; and he was willing to admit he was scared, for Sayu as well as for himself.

"But ..." He pushed her back, and held her head in his hands. Her warm tears flowed over his bare hands, and her skin was burning hot. Two pink dots had formed high on her cheeks and her face was a snail trail of fluids; but he still thought she looked beautiful. "Stay with me tonight. Please. I want to spend the rest of my life with the one I love." A single tear of his on escaped.

Sayu cried even harder, though she managed to nod her consent.


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Der Tod Uhr

_I'd actually forgotten how much I love Death Note, oh my God. I think my writing style may have changed slightly since I last updated this, but please bear with me. _

Meine Liebe 

Chapter Thirteen:Der Tod Uhr

Things ended up in the bedroom, as they always did with Mello.

Though he would never admit it, he only enjoyed it because of the closeness; all of his life he had felt like a solitary island drifting through through the world, and, sure, he integrated himself into social circles and learned how to manipulate, but he never felt that anyone had ever been on the same level as him, he often felt that he saw the world very differently to everyone else – the act of sex made him feel connected to that other world of people that drifted past him. It was no different with Sayu; he had admitted to himself that he was particularly attached to her, but he took her in his arms that night, his final night, for the sole reason of feeling close to someone.

Life was passing him by and he could hear the Death Clock ticking steadily on, counting down the minutes he had left. Where the sound was coming from he didn't know, the ticking seemed to be everywhere, permeating out of the walls, the ceiling, the floor, it seemed to be coming from him too. A steady ticking in his chest, incessant, persistent, unrelenting.

Sayu was sleeping softly beside him, head resting on his torso. Mello smirked, despite himself. He still hadn't worked that girl out, that perfectly captivating yet horrendously normal girl. He stroked her ebony hair, it was sleek and soft and comforting to touch. Despite the noise of the night-time streets below, he could still make out her soft and regular breaths.

He missed sleep. By God, he missed that elusive bastard. But sleep was a luxury saved only for the innocent and pure of mind. Insomnia was the curse of the murderer, the shameless power-seeker, the liar and the thief; Insomnia had been his frigid bedmate for several long years. But tonight Mello counted his curses as blessings and praised his broken soul for it's bountiful gifts.

Tonight was his last night. Every second was precious.

Never in his life had he trusted anyone. He was Mello to them, and that was all they needed to know. But he was anxious now, quite restless - no one in the world knew who he really was, and the need to spill it all out was rising like bile, and he knew he needed to spew it out.

Tonight was his last night, he accepted this with a heavy heart. He was going to die in a few hours, but that did not worry him so much, the years in the Mafia taught him not to fear death; he knew that it was constant, it was everywhere, and it was coming. All he feared was damaging the things most precious to him. He did not have much to leave behind, but what he did possess was cherished and gloriously alive.

He wanted her to know that he was alive too.

So, he was going to talk.

…

Sayu could not remember falling asleep, so when she was roused, she was completely disorientated, the room was dark and unfamiliar and smelled dusty and dirty and completely un-lived in. Mello was steadily stroking her hair, looking blankly at the wall opposite. He looked like a ghost in the pale and uneven city lights which shone through the window and illuminated him. "Mello?" She asked drowsily, shifting her head to look up into his face.

It was mask-like and unmovable, but the eyes sparkled strangely. "That's not my name, you know." He said softly, still stroking her hair. He glanced down at her, and his eyes – oh, his eyes – there is no way to describe them. Sayu was used to them being cold and detached, or if not, showing a simple but pure amount of emotion. Now, now they were oceans, pouring forth a torrent of unreserved pain and love and anguish and hope and loss and happiness. He displayed everything in his eyes, as plain as day. "My name's Mihael."

"Mihael?"

"Mihael Keehl. I was born in in Meisenheim, in Germany. My father called Dieter and ran his own shop, my mother was called Johanna. They were two inconsequential people from an inconsequential town." He paused in his story, twisting a strand of her hair absently around his long fingers. "They were good people, though. I often wondered how my life would be different now, if they'd lived. I wouldn't be brilliant. I'd be another inconsequential person from an inconsequential town." He paused again. Sadness touched his face. "I don't even remember what they look like."

Sayu nestled closer to him. She gripped one of his hands and pressed it to her lips, to remind him that she was still there and that she loved him. He did not react, he was lost in the past, still twirling a strand of her hair, but absently, out of habit.

"I was there in the car with them when they died. A car crash, I don't even know how it happened. But I remember, I remember what they _looked_ like after, well my mother at least. My father had been thrown out of the windsheild; he'd taken his seat belt off to help me get my jumper over my head. I had my arms all tangled up in it. I was only six." He paused again, musing. "My mother had her eyes open when she died, and she was staring at me. Staring with those bulging eyes. Dead, blank eyes. The blood from her brain had been rushing from her nose, and I thought it was never going to stop." He glanced down at Sayu's horrified face. "The van that hit us, it's bumper broke off, went through the window and crushed her head." He said by way of explanation.

"Nothing was real after that. I went to live with my aunt and her brood of ignorant children. I had nothing left in life, so I worked. I worked hard in school. And I became brilliant. I realized then that nothing was important, nothing but knowledge, because knowledge is eternal, while people whither and die." He kissed Sayu lightly on the top of her head.

"A man came to my aunt when I was eight. They took me away to the Orphanage. It was horrible, I hated it at first. They were always pushing us, pushing us to be better. We lived in fear of failure; the losers were publically humiliated, they were laughed at, they were beaten up by the older kids. You didn't want to fail, you had to be the best. And when you got to the top, they pushed you even harder than before. But I did it, I stuck it all out. I broke my back working for them, and for what? To be overlooked for that _freak_." Mello grit his teeth and slammed his fist onto the bedside table, suddenly blinded by a pure rage.

"Second!" He shouted it to the sky, and thrashed about on the bed like an ensnared animal. Sayu lept up and backed away to the corner of the room. She pressed herself against it, dull panic rising in her. She was scared of him for the first time in a long while. "All I ever wanted was taken away from he, snapped up in a instant by that usurping little bastard! I should have been the one! I worked more than he ever did!" He bunched the thin sheets of the bed in his hands and roughly dragged his nails across them, trying to rip them.

Sayu was shaking. "Mello, please-"

"But he was better than me." He was panting, obviously trying to calm himself. She knew he wasn't listening to her, he in a different world to her right now. "So I left. What did it matter anyway? L was dead, and he hadn't made his decision yet. But let's face it, he never would have picked me. I wasn't good enough."

He stopped the story there, still trying to regain control of his anger.

The sudden silence hung heavily in the room. Mello was still breathing heavily from his outburst. Sayu was poised like a frightened animal in the corner; her doe-like eyes were wide, and her whole body was tense, like she was ready to bolt in an instant.

Mello turned his head to face her. He looked ethereal in pale light. His strong features had been softened by the darkness, and the shadows accentuated his proud high-cheekbones. Sayu was reminded at once of an angel. She thought that he had never looked more handsome than he did then, regardless of the scar that consumed half of his face.

"I'm sorry if I scared you. Please come back to bed." He opened his arms and she fell into them willingly.

Sayu snuggled close to him, resting her head on his chest, and linking their hands together. His skin was soft and warm against her cool cheek. She felt a sense of peace then, she was where she belonged. "Why did you tell me all that?" She asked, her voice soft and thoughtful. Her breath tickled his naked torso, giving him an outbreak of goosebumps.

"I wanted someone to know I was a real person." He said, and he recommenced stroking her hair. "There's was a life behind my name."

"There is a life behind your name." She corrected.

"_Was_." He said forcefully. He pulled away from her slightly, and tilted her head up with a soft touch of his finger. "But I'm alive now, and I want to feel."

They made love again, holding hands all the while.

...

After they finished, he said: "Look out for Kiyomi Takada. You'll know about me then." But she had no idea what he meant, and he wouldn't answer when she asked.

…

Mello guessed that he fell asleep, because he was awoken by a grave-looking Matt some time later. The sky was pinkening outside in the early dawn. It was time to move.

Mello waved Matt away and slowly unwedged himself from Sayu's grip. She was in a very deep sleep, and he was thankful; he'd never had to say goodbye before, and he didn't think that he would be any good at it.

He watched over her while he dressed, and when he was done struggling with all that tight leather, he sat on the end of the bed, and watched her sleep.

He was going to die today. But that was alright. It had to be done.

He was going to leave her today. That was sort of alright too. Time would heal. And he had given her something to remember him by.

He was at a loss for why he had done it. Perhaps the knowledge of his own death had made him careless. Or perhaps, he was still trying to get one over on Near. Mello would leave behind a dynasty, children begetting children to create a strong and proud race. That was something Near could never have. He would have successors, of that Mello was sure, but not an lineage of his own.

The Death Clock ticked on. Time was growing short. He felt strange, there was no appetite for chocolate today.

Mello calmly stood, placed a kiss on Sayu's forehead, a gentle kiss on her lips and a kiss on her flat belly.

Then Mihael Keehl went ever so calmly to his death.


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Morgen

_Ahhh, this is the penultimate chapter. So, therefore, it is sad times for everyone. A short one, I dare say, to reflect Sayu blank and empty feelings at this time. _

Meine Liebe 

Chapter Fourteen: Morgen

Sayu woke up alone.

She just lay there for a while, staring up at the grimy, off-white ceiling. Her body felt heavy all over, yet light and empty inside. He had gone, he had left her. She had not even been granted the courtesy of a goodbye, of one last kiss, one last embrace. She would never know those things again.

She would never feel him, never taste the chocolate on his lips. He would not kiss her head and scoop her up in his protective arms, the way he had so often, gripping her to his body, her feeling the warm softness of his skin contrasting delightfully with the rough leather of his clothing.

She stared at the ceiling.

Sayu knew she should have been feeling _something_ complex at that moment, but she felt only an aching loneliness, closing up her chest and taking her breath. The void she hadn't felt in so long returned, worse than before, making her feel sickeningly desolate; as if whatever had been filling the void inside had been wrenched suddenly away.

He was gone.

He was going to die.

Or was he already dead?

She hated to think it, but it was a possibility.

Or he could be alive still, that was also a possibility.

But would he survive? That was the ultimate question. But shouldn't that be a possibility too? Sayu prayed that it was; she asked every god she knew of for help, and when she ran out of names, she asked the earth and the sky and the moon and the sun for guidance, for hope, for proof that he would live.

She waited and waited for a sign.

There was only silence.

Sayu tried to focus on the patterns of the stains on the ceiling; she wanted to stop thinking. The only in the corner looked like a cat, kind of. If the cat had a slightly warped and mutated head …

_Who was she trying to kid? _

Sayu did not move for a long time. She lay on the bed, stared at the ceiling, and broke her heart with weeping.

…

Sayu, at some point in the day, managed to get out of bed. She also managed to dress herself. A funny thought had hit her as she had laid there: what if he had left something behind? A letter, an object, something meant for her?

She tore the place apart.

She started in the bedroom, she looked on and in the bedside table, she even looked in the care closet, she overturned the mattress and checked in the the pillow cases. Then, driven wild with desperation, she staggered into the living room, and wrenched the threadbare sofa away from the peeling white wall. She checked behind it, she checked under it, she checked under and in every single cushion. She the tv for videos, she ripped apart the kitchen and even the bathroom.

Nothing. Not even a word to whisper that he had existed.

Sayu sank exhausted onto the faded yellow linoleum of the kitchen floor. She hung her head but could not cry, she'd gotten rid of all her tears earlier; perhaps she could cry again later. But right now, she had no strength left in her at all, and as she lay dejectedly on the grimy floor, Sayu remarked at how strange she felt.

It was like no other feeling she had ever had. There was a pain in her chest, a hollow and dull aching; her heart breaking, she supposed.

All of this did not seem real to Sayu, it seemed like a bad dream. At any moment, she would wake up in her bedroom, and he would be looming over her, chancing a surprise visit while her mother was out shopping. He would hold her with his intense gaze, and she would forget everything in those oceans of icy blue. He would smile and embrace her, and it would be perfect. They would go out then, sneak off to have breakfast, and he would take her places in that fast red car. They would have a perfect day, and then he would leave; but she would not be sad, because more days would come.

Years would pass, and they would be happy. Sayu's mother would bless them eventually, and her big brother would give them his approval. Perhaps they would get married, perhaps they would not; perhaps they would have children, perhaps they would not. Maybe they would travel the world and never settle, maybe they would buy their own slice of suburban paradise – who knew, because the world would be their oyster and they would be able to make the future whatever they wanted it to be.

Sayu remained lying on the cold floor for a long time, just waiting to wake up.

…

Of course, she did not wake up, and eventually she realized that she never would. Still consumed by the dull ache in her chest, Sayu left the apartment, as it held nothing more for her now.

She wondered unfamiliar streets blindly, not knowing where she was or where she was going. The streets were unfamiliar, a million miles away from the metropolitan Eden in which she had grown up. The neighbourhood was rough, and all of the people looked tired and beaten down with the strain of life. Everyone had said eyes, and Sayu felt oddly at home.

Time passed in a blur; at some point in the day, she had managed to escape the bleak landscape of boarded up shops and vandalised walls and people who had given up. She was back on familiar territory, but still miles away from home, which she guessed was her aim.

She did not have anywhere else to go.

She walked without feeling, without thinking or seeing or hearing anything. She walked like she was purging something from within. Her limbs ached, but she did not stop; it felt good to just walk.

Eventually, she reached the park, and cut through it to get to the familiar leafy environs of the middle-class cul-de-sac of her home.

Sayu made her way up the driveway, unlocked the door with the spare key under the matt, and went inside. Her mother was waiting in the kitchen, and she went wild with screaming, demanding to know where she had been, demanding to know why she had told her she'd be out. Sachiko shrieked because she had been so scared, she had lost so much, and had nearly lost her daughter once before.

Sachiko was the type to show fear by hiding it behind a mask of anger.

Sayu ignored her, and went to the living room. The tv was on. Sayu sat herself before it, cross-legged on the floor like a child. The news was on.

Her mother followed her through from the kitchen, no longer shouting. She had seen her daughter act like this before, and it scared her a lot. The last thing she she needed right now was for her daughter to regress back into what she had been.

Sayu watched the news with blank eyes. It was consumed with story of Kiyomi Takada's kidnap and death. _"She and an unidentified male, assumed to be Ms. Takada's kidnapper, were found in the burnt remains of a cathedral this evening."_ The news caster looked through the screen with her sincere and beautiful face, and went on to read the police statement.

Sayu sighed deeply. "He's dead, then." The words were soft and bitter.

"What are you talking about Sayu." Her mother crouched down on her knees beside the girl. "Who's dead?"

Sayu did not reply. She was perfectly still and her eyes stared blankly at the wall.


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Der Sohn deines Vaters

_The last chapter. Finally, ahah. I would like to thank everyone to took time out of their day to read and review this; both the ones who followed this when I started writing this in 2010, and those who read it after I came back from my year long hiatus. _

Meine Liebe

Chapter 15: Der Sohn deines Vaters 

The counsellor had taken her mother into his room that day, to explain just what was wrong with her daughter. Stockholm Syndrome, and a bad case of it, according to him. He then went on to read out the explanation from a book, his pretentious, self-important voice filling the room with unnecessary grandeur: _'__Stockholm Syndrome s a term used to describe a real psychological__phenomenon wherein hostages_ _express empathy_ _and have positive feelings towards their captors, sometimes to the point of defending them. These feelings are generally considered irrational in light of the danger or risk endured by the victims, who essentially mistake a lack of abuse_ _from their captors for an act of kindness.__' _He closed the great, leather bound book with a sharp snap.

Sayu, if she'd been herself, would have slapped the officious little prick.

But Sayu was not herself just then. The paralysis had returned, and her joy in life had disappeared. To her, the things she witnessed and the world around her was no more real than her dreams. She had died that day with Mello. That was the day her life had come to an end. Things around her now didn't seem real – the things happening before her eyes seemed other-worldly, like she was watching it all from behind a tv set.

All of this had nothing to do with her.

The woman sat in the rigid green hospital chair, weeping to Dr Akimoto, was not her mother, not really; Sayu felt nothing for her. When Light had died, Sayu sat and watched Sachiko mourn with a frozenly stoic face; her big brother had died, but that did not matter. It was someone else's problem, she had died herself a while before.

"Is there anything I can do, Dr Akimoto? Please, she's the only thing I have left." Tears streamed down an old and broken face. Sachiko's once pretty visage was lined with stress and wrinkled with sadness; this woman's life had been destroyed. In the space of a few harsh months she had lost the love of her life and her only, brilliant son. Technically, she has lost her daughter to disaster too. "Why has this happened?"

Sayu watched impassively.

The short and stout Dr Akimoto shifted in his chair. "The syndrome can be explained in an evolutionary phenomenon called 'capure-bonding', and it is believed to have developed to solve adaptive problems faced by out hunter-gatherer ancestors; specifically, the females." He paused, pressing two arched fingers to his lips. He glanced quickly at Sayu before continuing. "Our female ancestors lived under the constant threat of being captured and kidnapped by other tribes. They would then, despite the violence and rape they may have experienced, integrate themselves into the new society."

Sachiko sniffed into a handkerchief, then dabbed at her tear stained face.

"I believe that Sayu developed sympathetic feelings towards her captor over the five day period of her incarceration." He paused, flicking through a few of the papers on his lap. "I believe that Sayu, on her release, slipped into a deep depression, hence her paralysis. That, at least, explains the first episode. I am unsure as to what caused this reoccurance though. I think it is safe to assume that she is suffering a relapse. Perhaps the strength of this relapse has something to do with the loss of her brother."

Sachiko began to weep with renewed vigour at the mention of her son. "But is there nothing you can do for her?"

Mr Akimoto pulled a sour face. "I'm sorry Mrs Yagami, there is nothing we can do at this time. We'll soon be able to put her back on the course of pills she was on in the initial paralysis. But there is nothing we can do now. Few medications have been proved safe in pregnancy, and some antidepressants have been associated with health problems with the child. My hands are tied on this matter."

He got to his feet. "Bring Sayu back for another check up next month. Until then, Mrs Yagami." He gave a curt bow.

…

Her mother had been _horrified_ when she found out. It had been at one of Sayu's initial check ups for her paralysis; she had been throwing up quite frequently and refusing food most of the time. Her mother had been worried that the depression had deepened again but, after taking blood, Mr Akimoto had confirmed the cause of it all.

Naturally, Sachiko had gone into hysterics. After all, Sayu hadn't actually had any contact with males since her kidnapping, in November, several months before. Of course, she had failed to come home that one night, and she had gone crazy with worrying; she even went as far as calling Light on his work phone. In that hospital room, on a cold and bleak February morning, she screeched at her daughter for answers. After all, being a single mother was a shameful thing.

Sayu, of course, said nothing.

Sachiko had then turned to Mr Akimoto, begging for a way out – she could not handle another life to look after right now, not after everything that happened. He had thought about it for a while, his frown seeming to crinkle all the way up his forehead and up over his bald spot. But in the end, there was nothing they could do without Sayu's consent, even though she was in paralysis and unable to actually speak.

It was an ethical issue. And his hands were tied on the matter.

…

Months flew by before Sayu's eyes, she was watching but not feeling anything – it was like watching a bad drama show, she could see it all, but nothing made her emote.

She and her mother continued to go and see Mr Akimoto, but there was never any change in her condition; he always pointed out that, though it was not getting any better, it also wasn't getting any worse, which was something to be thankful for. That never went down well – it wasn't as up-lifting as he probably hoped it would be, it was just highlighting the fact that nobody knew what to do.

They went to scans, Sayu watched her baby change and grow inside her, developing from a mutated blob to a human shaped blob. She was going to have a boy. Wasn't that fantastic?

Her mother tried to engage her in choosing names and picking out baby-grows. "Ohh, Hikaru, isn't that a nice name for a boy, dear? It means 'light', you know. What do you think?"

Sayu had no interest in any of those things. She just watched.

…

The due date passed, and Sayu had to be induced. Her paralysis meant that she was unable to push; so they drugged her up and cut her open. Sayu watched with dead eyes as they sliced open her belly with a scalpel and removed a wailing, blood-slicked baby. This was the birth of Hikaru Yagami, ripped from his mother's womb on a chilly October morning.

Sayu was kept in hospital for a while and put back on the antidepressants. They had no effect.

Her baby wailed and screamed for his mother's caress, but got only nurses to tend him. That caused something to stir within her, a slight twinge of a feeling she didn't quite understand.

The paralysis kept its cruel and vice like grip on her body. She wanted to reach out and hold her baby, but she could not, and it broke her heart.

Sayu and Hikaru were eventually let home, placed in the caring, if barely capable, hands of the struggling Sachiko. Sayu sat and watched day by day as her son grew from a helpless newborn to a chubby, squeezable baby. He was the most beautiful thing that she had ever set eyes on.

He had her thick, dark hair, which complimented the creamy pale skin which he had also inherited from his mother. But he had _his _eyes, that was the thing that made her heart ache. An icy cold blue, handsomely curved and unblinking. He had a cute little button nose, and the same pouting baby mouth that all children have; but they would change in time. And under all that baby fat lurked the face of his father, or so she hoped. But for now, his eyes were enough.

Slowly, the ice encasing her began to melt.

When, at two months, he began to lift his head of his own accord, Sayu began to move her arms and head about, her progress was slow but definite. When, at three months, he began to laugh, Sayu found her voice again. Soon she was able to stand and walk again; time healed her body, so she could attend her son. Sachiko called it a miracle, the doctors called it science, but Sayu called it being a mother. There was no joy in the world greater than talking to a baby and hearing his little voice babble back in response.

…

Hikaru grew, as babies often do, and Sayu grew with him, emerging from the shell she had forced herself into when Mello died. The pain didn't really get better, but having his son by her side everyday helped. As long as she could look into those eyes, she felt that she would be happy.

He was a very placid child, and very intelligent for his age – by the time he turned two, he could walk as well as managing to produce a few intelligible phrases. He was generally a mellow child, he rarely cried and barely complained, he was content in playing his own little games by himself. But if he was ever put out of temper, you saw his daddy in him then; it was the glare he gave, a look of authority that looked grossly out of place on his chubby little face.

Sayu was proud of her son. And she knew that his father was proud of him too, even though he couldn't be there.

Sayu sighed softly, picking up the final few stray toys cluttering the floor. How could one tiny child own so many toys?

She passed by the cream sofa to the toy box. The trouble maker in question was laying spread out on the sofa, twiddling his hair between chubby fingers, too tired out to sit up. His eyelids drooped sleepily.

Sayu's heart swelled and she smiled, a genuine and full smile. She crouched down beside him. The house was silent, and the sound of the clock ticking filled the space. It was a pleasant sound, comforting in it's continuous monotony. "Hey little man. You want to go to sleep?" She brushed his fringe back from his hot forehead with a cool and soothing smile.

He nodded, rubbing one tiny balled up fist in his eye.

"Ok Mr. You want mommy to tell you a story before you go?"

This received another nod.

Sayu smiled and picked up the little boy and cradled in her arms. It felt nice to hold the delicate little body to her chest. It felt like she was protecting him from the whole world. She breathed in the pleasant baby scent of his hair before starting her tale: "Mommy was a simple girl from Kanto; Daddy was a genius and a man passionate enough to die for the greater good. He stopped Kira you know, but I guess you'll learn about that later."

She kissed his forehead. His beautiful eyes lulled.

"Now, Daddy didn't know you were on your way, so he left Mommy and she got very sad. But I'm sure he loves you baby, I'm sure he's watching you. I bet he's as proud as Mommy. But that's not the story I wanted to tell. Well, Daddy's name was Mihael Keehl, and he was born in Meisenheim..."

…

_A/N: __Now, it's easy to imagine Sayu being very possessive of Hikaru in his later life, seeing that he resembles his father so much - she would keep him around so that she could keep the memory of Mihael Keehl alive; which shows how strongly she is obsessed by Mello. Of course, Hikaru is a prodigy and grows up to be a genius. And Sachiko manages to fill the void left by her son in delighting in the life of her grandson; Hikaru, which means 'light', is a prodigy and is everything she could ask for. I would write a story about that, about the struggles of a son growing up with an absent father and a deranged, obsessive mother, but I don't know if it'd get a good reception, I dunno. I'd probably run out of ideas too. Also, in reply to one of my reveiws - Mello didn't use contraception because he actually wanted to get Sayu pregnant, that way he could have something Near never could have, children, which is a small victory, but a victory nonetheless._

_Sorry for the re-upload; a few things here and there needed to be added. _


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